


Both the Planets and the Fixed Stars

by Amazing_E_ko



Category: Homestuck
Genre: 17th Century, Domestic Violence, Early Modern Era, F/F, F/M, Plotty, Renaissance Era, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-25 12:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amazing_E_ko/pseuds/Amazing_E_ko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1640. The Renaissance is dead and the Enlightenment has not yet begun. It's a dangerous time to be a knight, and a more dangerous time still to be a scientist. Can Jade and Karkat, seperated by time and distance, find their way back to each other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_...it is impossible that their motions should be made in opposite directions without their resisting each other._

*

_Dear Karkat,_   
_or I suppose that should be Don Karkat, now. The rules of etiquette are quite strict, as I understand them. But I have been calling you Karkat for too long to care. One simple ceremony cannot change that. I don't think a hundred could._   
_The spring is coming on here. The blossom is on the apple and the flowers in Mama's garden are quite lovely. I have started taking my Virgil outside again, to read in the courtyard. And if, on occasion, my Virgil contains a useful pamphlet on astronomy, or chemistry, or a coded letter from Rose, or one of Serenita's messages, well then so much the better. Last week I received a copy of Copernicus' book, smuggled through two countries to land on my doorstep. It's genius, Karkat. I mean, he hasn't proved it yet, not completely, but I'm sure he's right. And the writers I speak to through Serenita agree with me. If only I could do something useful, to help him and Galileo._   
_I'm sorry. I'm blathering. I write because I don't know what else to do. If only I could be there with you. If only I could be by your side. You have no idea how jealous I am of men, with your freedom to travel the world. There is so much I want to see and do. But I must stay here, and wait._   
_Come back to me soon, Karkat. I know how important this war is to you, but honour is not worth death. I would rather you were poor and here in Genoa than the wealthiest man in Spain. I am thinking of you, and in my own way, I am praying for you._

_Jade_

_Dear Jade,_   
_if we're going to discuss breaches of propriety like rational adults I should probably remind you that your breach is nowhere as serious as mine, stupid. You're the daughter of a Marchese, in case you've forgotten, and I'm just a foster son, born and raised to be a mendicant cavalier. So unless you'd like me to start calling you Donna Jade Harley, you'll leave off the honorifics immediately. Damn it to hell, that wasn't what I meant to write. I had an exquisite, superlative letter in my head, all about how beautiful Valencia is. We docked here yesterday, and were given just enough shore time for me to post the last letter, on a ship headed back home. I wanted to look for something to send with it, but John told me I was being silly, and then spent hours dragging me through narrow alleys and paved squares where fat old women with more wrinkles than teeth fan themselves and follow the shade. He was as unbearably exuberant as always, and it was completely nauseating, but it did provide good writing fodder, so I guess I'll forgive him. He sends his love, I should add. I'll try to get him to write himself, the lazy sot. You wouldn't miss travelling if you'd been on a boat as long as I have, eating withered apples and vomiting them back up every time a storm hits, which is every two days, as far as I can tell. John, that disgusting cretin, never gets seasick, no matter how sharply the boat lurches. Which I suppose goes to show that some men were born to be pissant merchant sailors and some men were born to be warriors and leaders. You know I can't come home. There's nothing for me in Italy, not now that all our wars have dried up. War is the only way for a man like me to get ahead in life. When I'm laden with jewels and titles and men acknowledging my riches, then I'll come visit, fifty swooning girls on each arm. On second thought, scratch the girls. I'll come at dawn, and slip through the kitchen gate. I'll throw gravel at your window, and you'll come down in your nightdress, and we'll sneak out to watch the sun rise, and you can blather about heliocentrism all you like. That sounds like a much better idea._   


_Karkat._

*

Jade turned the letter over in her hands, pressing her finger to the last sentence, feeling the rough tug of the parchment against her skin, the softness where the ink had dried. Like all of Karkat's letters, it was splashed with ink in a hundred places, with smears and scratches where the nib of his pen had broken. He was no great calligrapher. It didn't matter. She added the letter to her box. Two years, two hundred letters. She treasured them all, though she couldn't help wishing each one was the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes for this chapter, the first one on swearing. Foul language is a staple of Karkat's character, but foul language in the 17th century meant something very different to what it does now. I've tried to create a balance between staying true to the period and keeping Karkat's voice recognisably his own, though no doubt I will seesaw back and forth. In any case, rest assured that when written to lady, his letter is suitably uncouth and foul.
> 
> In as much as it is possible, I've tried to keep the facts and dates accurate. Many of the events of this fic really did happen, and I'll highlight those as we go. The titles are as real as I could make them, but lists of the minor noble titles are not perfectly accurate, so I've ducked and dodged a little. If you notice any glaring inconsistencies, please comment, though I don't promise to fix them if it would disrupt the story or require huge amounts of editing.
> 
> (Also serious apology for all the edits. HTML is borking out on me, trying to fix it.


	2. One

The year was 1640. The Renaissance was dying, passing out of memory and into history. Da Vinci had been dead for a hundred years, Michelangelo for eighty. In England, Shakespeare had shuffled off his mortal coil some twenty years earlier. The political situation was tense. Hapsburg Spain ruled the continent, but on a precarious balance, and France were watching with eagle eyes, ready to dislodge them when the opportunity presented itself. Galileo had been tried, and found guilty. In spite of the Reformation, the Catholic church still held the great powers in its grip, and the Enlightenment was a century away. Spinoza was only eight years old, and Leibniz had not yet been born.

Jade, cocooned in the privilege of a young, rich woman, was insulated from the changing world. Savagery and brutality did not climb the walls of her estate, and her absentminded father granted her every privilege she desired. She had books to read, companions to play and talk with, a loving father and a stern but kindly grandfather. She had a passion for science which she explored in spite of every obstacle. Only one thing truly disrupted her life, and that was love.

She could not say when she had fallen in love with Karkat. Turning back the years in her mind, she drew for herself the boy he had been at seven years old, skinny, underfed, the illegitimate son of an Archbishop connected to her grandfather. His older brother, whom Jade had never met, had been squeezed up through the ranks of the priesthood, but then the cardinal fell from favour, and Karkat had drawn the short straw in the game of life. His future had been on the point of dissolution when Jade's grandfather offered him a place in their household, and though Karkat took it willingly enough, he never forgot the circumstances that had led him there.

He was a wild, belligerent child, stubborn and wilful, rejecting every authority but his own, even as he wheedled friendship from the other children with stolen fruit. He looked scornfully at Jade when they passed in the corridors, seeing her finery and not her face. She was as distant from him as the moon from the earth, and he had no intention of reaching for the impossible.

Then came Jade's eighth birthday. She had been planning to go stargazing for months, the only present she'd requested from her father. When the day came down to it, however, her grandfather deemed the air too cold, and she was forbidden to spend the night outside. She had burst into tears in front of a crowded room of people and fled, leaving the celebrations to end in hushed embarrassment.

To Jade it was a humiliation, but to Karkat it was a revelation. The glimmering jewel had shattered, and at its heart was a common stone. He was the one who found her, two hours later, in the highest, coldest tower, looking through the glassless window to the darkening sky. Much later, he was the one who snuck her and her telescope outside, away from the lanterns and the crowds, so that she could turn her gaze to the heavens and make notes on Mars.

That was the beginning. Karkat spent his days training with Jade's cousin, John, and she spent her days with her tutor, but when their lessons were done they invariably found each other, and they would sit by the fountains, or under the shade of the trees, or by the great hearth in the kitchen, and talk. Somewhere in all that conversation they fell in love, but Jade could never trace the root. It had grown between them like bindweed, fast and strong and choking, and they did not fight it.

They never spoke of their feelings openly. Love was an impossible dream, for Jade especially. To speak of it, to give it any weight at all, would have made her life unbearable. She was too much a realist to grant herself such an impossible hope. But she left a space in her life, and did not disturb it, and averted her mental gaze from the white gap on her canvas.

 

It was mid November, and in the Republic of Genoa that meant cold. It hadn't snowed yet, but it would soon. Still, the cold air had made the skies particularly clear, and Jade was committed to her research. She had set out hours earlier, ostensibly to visit a nearby villa belonging to her friend Rose, but in reality for a scientific task. Rose, a committed chemist in her own right, had comparative freedom, and kept a laboratory, as well as a number of telescopes. She was a child of mixed ancestry, with an Italian father and an English mother, and she had been educated primarily in England.

Also at the villa were Rose's brother, Dave Strider, and her particular friend, Kanaya Maryam. Dave had been adopted some years ago by his mother's brother, and was heir to a Barony in England. Kanaya, like Rose and Dave, was of mixed ancestry - half English and half Bavarian. She and Rose had gone to school in England together, and had been inseparable since.

That was the company, gathered at present around the fireplace in what Rose insisted on calling her drawing-room. Dinner was over with, and they were waiting for the right hour to begin their observations. The conversation was slack and sleepy. Rose and Kanaya were sitting on a divan together, Rose lying back with her head in Kanaya's lap. Jade was curled up in a chair by the fire, watching the flames, while Dave sat back a little, reading a book with slack concentration.

"Any word from the scruffy bastard lately?" Dave said, all at once. His term was technically correct, of course, but Dave was one of only two men Jade knew willing to use it around a woman, and it sent a little shock of danger up her spine.

"I had a letter from him today. He's well, he had just arrived in Valencia at the time of the letter." She turned her head towards Dave, the firelight catching in her hair. "Why do you ask?"

"Just checking." He grinned. "My offer to punch him if he fucks up still stands. Don't forget it."

"Your urge to punch Don Karkat, dear brother, is such a recurring dream that I suspect it has other origins than a concern for Jade's wellbeing," Rose said, not sitting up. Kanaya was brushing her hair with her fingers, and Rose looked completely content.

"What are you implying, dear sister? Don't mistake my chivalry for passion simply because you have none."

"Miss Rose has plenty of passion, I assure you," Kanaya said, and then blushed. "I mean, one has only to see her in the chemistry laboratory to understand..." She trailed off, her face red, and Dave and Rose laughed. Jade, watching it all, found herself smiling. Rose and Dave were odd, certainly, but then they were English. And whatever their peculiarities, they were the closest and best friends she'd ever had, bar one.

 *

The inn was crowded with sailors and soldiers, all hell bent on turning their wages into a sop of alcohol. Karkat looked on, seething and frustrated. He hated being in places like this, watching these degenerate human beings make fools of themselves. If only they thought. If only they tried. But they were content to revel in the worst stereotypes of the common-born man. There would never be equality while these fools existed, pissing their lives away into a gutter.

Not that Karkat had any particular desire for equality. He wanted to prove himself within the system, not change it. That was why he had spent the last two years fighting wars he didn't believe in, looking for gold and honour enough to raise him up to the level of a true gentleman. With enough money there was no shame that couldn't vanish into the past.

A cheer sounded from the other side of the room, and there was a general banging of tables. Karkat's ale, which was little more than cat piss anyway, slopped out of his mug and onto his breeches. No doubt John was winning at dice again. Karkat snarled and stood up, shouldering his way through the crowd to his old friend.

"Fuck this, Egbert, I'm leaving."

John looked up, meeting Karkat's gaze with bright blue eyes that seemed to hold no deception.

"So soon? We've hardly been here an hour, surely."

"It's been two, halfwit, and I'm tired. This is my last night out of mud and mire for two months. I intend to savour it."

"Well, if you must go, you must," John said, and he swung himself out of his chair to clap Karkat soundly on the back, embracing him. "Stay safe. For me and for her."

Karkat shrugged him aside and left. He had no fear of leaving John alone: the man was small, but broad shouldered and muscular, with hands like dinner plates hardened by years of working the ropes. Karkat had seen him stop bar fights just by standing in the middle.

Outside, the chill night air draw colour into Karkat’s cheeks, waking him up and making him feel more alive. He walked about the old streets of Valencia for half an hour or so, enjoying the night. Through the smoke of the torches and fires he could see the winter stars, and in his head a voice named them for him, pointing to each with a long, thin finger.

 

He left before dawn, riding west and north. He was fighting a very Spanish war this time. The Catalans had been urged into rebellion, and Spain was struggling. They could ill afford to lose Catalonia, but the cost of keeping it was high, demanding men needed in the Netherlands and France. It was an excellent time to be a soldier, in Karkat's opinion. Especially if you were not overly concerned about who you fought for.

He joined the army at noon. Pedro Fajardo, Viceroy of Navarre, was the commanding general. Karkat knew little of Fajardo, and was not overly impressed with him when they met. Fajardo was a thin, dark man with a long moustache and curly black hair. His eyes were serious, but there was something doubtful about the set of his lips, which Karkat distrusted. Still, he'd worked for worse before, and as long as the man didn't fuck up the General part, Karkat had no interest in his facial expressions, however chinless.

Karkat's battalion, of which he was Captain, was a battalion of Italian skirmishers armed with arquebusses, front-loaded muskets made for piercing through heavy plate armour. They would be especially useful in a campaign like this, where the battle was against peasants who probably still thought knights were the cutting edge of military tactics.

Karkat left the General's tent as soon as it was polite and headed over to his encampment. He spent the next two days refamiliarising himself with the details of his command, learning the names of his subordinate officers, examining equipment lists and tactical plans for the sieges sure to follow. He made it his habit to eat with the men, around the campfires in the evening. They told bawdy stories about him, which he denied irately but secretly enjoyed. They welcomed him and included him, sang songs about the women they'd loved, or left, or lost, and told outrageous stories. It was a good journey.

 

They reached Tortosa on the fourth day out from Valencia. It was an old, walled town, built in honey-coloured stone and hemmed in on two sides by mountains. Even Karkat had to admit that it would be a tough nut to crack. As they stared at it, wreathed in the morning mist the rolled off the Erbe, Karkat felt sure that his fortune lay within its walls. When the city was retaken for Spain there would be spoils aplenty, gold and jewels to carry home, to make his name forever. He didn't need the patronage of an absent father, or the weaselling power of the priesthood. Karkat Vantas would be known for his deeds, not his blood, and his deeds would be great. And when he was rich he would go back to Vazarre, to a villa overlooking the sea, and he would ask for a bride. That was the only way the future could go.

The siege was short, as sieges went. It lasted barely a week before it boiled over into open battle, the defenders crazy and desperate. Fajardo led with a cool hand, directing from a tent high on the ridge above the river.

Karkat's battalion was stationed on the left flank, aiming where the armoured cavalry was thickest. Their guns, made heavy to shoot through plate armour, were painfully slow to load and fire, and the best tactic was rows of men tiered like archers, shooting at the oncoming knights. Karkat was no gentleman, directing from the rear while his men died. He plunged into the froth of battle, the muck and mire, using a carbine and keeping a sword in case he ran out of balls and powder. His horse, Gambero, was well used to the sting and smoke of the guns, and they moved easily together, like two creatures with one mind.

In all of this, what happened could only have been bad luck. He was riding down a chevalier, concentrating on aiming at the bastard, when he felt heat bloom through his arm and chest. He looked down. Blood was already soaking through the linen. And then he felt the second shot, and he knew he was done for. His hand slackened on Gambero's rein. His knees wobbled, and their grip on the horse's sides loosened. In another moment he was plunged off Gambero's back and into the stinking mud. His vision darkened, and he knew no more.

* 

Jade was in her room, reading. By its cover, and even a cursory glance at the pages, it was a copy of Cicero, and she was doing nothing untoward by reading it. It was only if you looked carefully that the writing between the lines of poetry became clear. She was reading Galileo.

The book had arrived a week earlier, sent by Serenita. Serenita was an organisation of female scientists throughout Europe, though Jade did not know how large it truly was, or where it drew its resources from. She knew only that since her first contact with these other women, through coded letters and banned books, her life had been immeasurably richer.

And now, to read Galileo. He had to be right. Jade was sure of it. His mathematics was not just sound, it was beautiful. That was always a sign of truth in math.

A knock sounded, and Jade hastily tucked the book away. It never paid to be too careful.

"Come in."

Her father opened the door and came in, his face serious and grave. He was a short, dark man, and his eyes were kind. He knelt down and took Jade's hands, and the motion was so tender and sympathetic that a pang of fear pierced her heart at once.

"What is it?" she heard herself say, and her own voice sounded weak and wavering.

"My dear, I don't know how to tell you this." Her father was weeping. Why was he weeping? "We received a letter from Spain this morning. Don Karkat was killed in the battle of Tortosa. He fought honourably and his actions helped to secure the victory of the Spanish army."

Jade stared at him, her face blank. What he was saying was completely impossible. It could not be true.

"John has promised to gather his belongings when he comes back from Ireland. I'm sure you will be welcome to keep them. My dear, I know you cared for him..."

Jade heard nothing more. She buried her face in her arms and sobbed.

 

Jade stayed in her room for the next week and a half, leaving only to go to church on Sunday. A maid brought her food, and she ate it, or she didn't. It was hard to remember. She was full of grief and fear.

The grief was for Karkat, of course, and it was such a huge feeling that she felt as though she couldn't hold it. How could anyone feel this much pain? Everything in her room reminded her of him. The gifts he had given her, the clothes he had complimented or mocked, the books they had read together - all of it was incredibly precious to her. She kept picking things up and putting them down, just for that moment when she remembered something he had said or done, and he lived again in her memory.

And then there was fear, always bubbling under the surface. Jade was not a conventional woman. Her passion for science and her lack of regard for propriety and feminine tasks had marked her as different early on. But she'd never been afraid of who she was, because she always had someone who loved everything about her. Now, with Karkat gone, she was in considerable danger. She was young, and beautiful. It was impossible that she would not marry. And her chances of marrying a man who would let her research and read were impossibly slim.

She considered asking Dave to propose. He would do it in a heartbeat, of course. But ultimately she could not do that to him. It would not be fair. He did not love her, and she hated the thought of binding him to a marriage he could not want.

On the third day after the news arrived Jade brushed her hair, put on a nice dress, and left her room. It was Sunday, and her grandfather had strict rules about going to church. Even now she did not want to risk his anger. Much as she loved him, he was a dangerous man to cross.

He met her in the entrance hall and embraced her briefly, his moustache wobbling.

"You look pale, Jade. Come, this is no time for a maiden to be drooping. You are young, and your life is good, and it is the Christmas season. Let me see you smile."

Jade did her best, and though she doubted her own conviction, it seemed to be enough for Grandfather.

"I know it is hard to lose old friends, but that is the nature of the lives of men. We live and die in the world. Your job is only to be a beautiful flower in a garden, loved and cherished by all who see her."

Jade nodded mutely, not daring to speak.

 

The church service was dull, and Jade spent most of it looking at the other patrons. She knew everyone here, from lowest to highest. Except one. There was a man, towards the rear of the church, whom Jade had never seen in her life. He was richly dressed, in fine velvet and silk, and there were many bands of gleaming jewels embroidered on his bright green coat. In spite of his ornate garments, though, he did not seem foppish in the slightest. He was too huge for that, and too bullish. His large head was scarred, his cheeks were ruddy, and in defiance of fashion his hair was cropped close to his head. He looked dangerous. Jade felt the skin on her arms prickle at the very sight of him.

When the service was done, and her family were standing by the door to greet the other churchgoers, Jade asked her father about him.

"That," he said, his voice low, "is Count Lagorio. He's from the Papal States. He's an old friend of your grandfather's. You'll meet him later."

There was something in his tone which troubled Jade, but weary as she was with grief, she discounted it.

 

They rode back to the house through the chill winter air, and when she was divested of her cloak Jade turned to go up to her room. Before she could leave, however, the maid put a hand on her arm.

"Miss, your grandfather wishes to see you."

Jade nodded, and turned away from the staircase, towards her grandfather's study.

His study was perhaps the most beautiful room in the house, with east-facing windows that looked out onto the Mediterranean, across the garden where the cypresses stood in dark rows and the roses bloomed in summer. All around the walls stood bookshelves, filled with row after row of books. History, theology, religion, poetry and even some of the modern plays filled the shelves. When she was little, Jade's favourite thing to do had been to sneak into the study and smell the books, lifting them down from the shelves and pressing her face into the thick paper. Now she merely ran her hands down the spines, greeting her old friends.

"Sit down, child," Grandfather said, and she did as she was told, looking at him.

"You are my precious pearl, Jade. I hope that you know that. Never once have I regretted that you were born a girl. Your beauty and grace have brought light to this villa, and I shall be sad to see you leave." Jade opened her mouth, and he stopped her. "But leave you must. It is past time you were married, Jade. You deserve the full life of a woman, with a household of your own to run, and children to love, and a husband who will care for you. I always held off on engaging you to anyone, knowing your affection for Don Karkat. He was not of pure birth, it's true, but he was a good man, and he would have done well by you, I think. Still, that is over and done."

He shook his head and stroked his moustache sadly before continuing.

"Jade, I have found you a husband. He is an old friend of mine, and a good man. He is rich and powerful. You will never want for anything with him as your husband. He has wished to marry for some years, but he never found the right woman. Frequently he asked about you, but I was never able to grant him permission to court you. Now, however, things are different. You will marry Count Lagorio after Christmas."

Jade did not say anything. There was nothing to say. Grandfather stood up and rang the bell, and the door opened almost at once to admit the Count.

"Well," Grandfather said. "The thing is done. You will be most happy now, Caliborn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Grandfather Harley. Before anyone accuses me of slaughtering his character, I want to make it clear that I don't think of this as being the same person as Jake English. This is very much the old man who raised Jade, and who, although he was clearly kind and loving, seemed quite old fashioned. Now take that and bring it back to the 1640s, to a time when women were property, and old-fashioned quite easily becomes "place your granddaughter in an arranged marriage which you absolutely believe will lead to her happiness". I've also played up the Jake/Caliborn connection. I hope, after the latest updates, that won't seem too implausible.
> 
> Speaking of Caliborn, why isn't he called Lord English? Well, because I wanted there to be some suspense about who the character was. Lagorio means green lizard - I felt it was an appropriate name.
> 
> Kanaya and Rose really do get away with lesbianism just by being foreign, which was a pretty common defence in those days. Homosexuality was one of those things that always existed, and was either punished or ignored. By virtue of their social status and their role as outsiders, Rose and Kanaya manage the latter.
> 
> Fajardo is a real person, and the battle Karkat fights in really happened. You can read about it on Wikipedia, the way I did.


	3. Two

"Kanaya!" The shout rang out from Rose's room, and Kanaya ran towards it at once, though she was still only in her morning dressing-gown. She knew Rose better than anyone, and such anxiety was not normal. Rose liked to say that there was nothing gained by panic before noon. _If it still seems serious after lunch, Kanaya, then one can deal with it at leisure_. And yet here she was, shouting at half past ten.

Kanaya stepped through into Rose's room to find her lover dishevelled, her dressing gown undone at the waist and her hair falling about her head in tangled knots. She was clutching a letter in her hand, so tightly that her knuckles were white with tension.

Rose shoved the letter at Kanaya and slumped into a chair, pillowing her head on her arm. Kanaya felt fear crawl up her spine, and she carefully smoothed out the soft parchment, turning to the window to read it.

It was a letter from Jade.

Dear Rose,

I hope this letter finds you well. I know I promised to visit you this weekend, but I find myself unexpectedly engaged. Both literally as well as figuratively! I am to marry in just over a week, and you can imagine my rapturous delight. There is a great deal to do, however, in a short space of time. I have gowns to order and lace to buy, and so many things to see to that I have hardly a spare minute to myself. Rest assured though, you are not forgotten. I love you as dearly as ever, and I hope you will come to the ceremony...

The letter ran on in this vein, at last turning from the wedding to an arrangement of flowers that Jade was designing.

Kanaya's first reaction was relief, followed instantly by shame. It was a selfish feeling, and unworthy, but she couldn't help but be happy that no trouble was brewing for Rose and herself. They already had so much to contend with.

Her second reaction was to turn to Rose.

"You know I never learned to read your code," she said. "What is Jade really saying?"

Rose sighed.

"She's in great danger, or she believes herself to be. She asks that we set our final plan into motion."

There was a moment of silence, and then Kanaya sat down heavily by Rose, who turned at once and buried her face in Kanaya's shoulder.

"Poor Jade," Kanaya said, her voice trembling. "How terrible. We must do everything we can to help her."

 

Jade ran through her mental list one more time. She had clothes in her bag, both men's and women's, suitable for almost anything she thought she might need to do. She had her most important notebooks and texts. She had a knife, a flint, three good tallow candles, some bread and hard cheese, money in gold, silver, and bronze, plus promissory notes from the Bank of Genoa. She had all of Karkat's letters, tucked away in a secret pocket of her coat.

Carefully, quietly, she swung herself out her window and gripped the flourishing ivy that clung to the wall. She had made this journey many times, sneaking out to view the stars, and her feet found the best placement with ease. In a moment she was on solid ground again, ducking through the shrubbery and up the slope to the wall.

She let herself out the little gate that led into the forest, wrapped her cloak tightly around her shoulders to shield against the cold and moved through the silent trees. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, and she had to be careful to tread where it was thinnest, not wanting to leave obvious tracks.

At last she saw a faint light glimmering through the trees, and she moved towards it. It resolved into a lantern, held aloft by Kanaya. She and Rose stood by their horses, their breath blooming white in the chill night air. Jade felt tears prick her eyes at the sight of her friends, and without thinking she flung herself at Rose.

"I'm so glad to see you," she said, hugging Rose as tightly as she could. Kanaya set a hand on her shoulder, and for the first time in days Jade felt safe.

"Dave is meeting us closer to the border," Rose said. "He's gone to lay some false trails. Don't worry, he knows what he's about."

Jade nodded, still a little overwhelmed. Though this plan had long existed, given the dangers of practising science as a woman when the church was watching, she was still astonished by the lengths her friends were going to just for her.

"We have a long way to go," Kanaya said, gentle but firm. "We should leave at once."

Jade nodded, and slipped away from Rose, swinging herself up onto her horse. Rose and Kanaya followed suit, and in another minute they were moving through the dark trees, away across the mountains towards France.

*

Karkat felt bleary. His head was ringing, and his body ached everywhere. He had a strong sensation of softness and silence, and of a hand holding his. Jade, he thought, and the name filled him with a happy peace. He drifted away into sleep again.

There were more wakings, soft and white and temporary. Sometimes people were feeding him, or sponging his body. Sometimes they were talking, soft and quiet and trying not to wake him. Sometimes a cheerful voice read him stories. Once, he woke to find his hand held, soft fingers pressing his own. It was all like a long and pleasant dream, cut off from the flow of time.

Karkat truly came back to himself on the 13th of December. He opened his eyes and found himself lying in a bed in a plain, whitewashed room, probably a tower chamber, judging by the curved walls and the sky beyond the window. It was a rainy day, and fat drops of water splashed against the heavy lead glass of the panes. Several candles burned brightly, shedding light in little halos. The linen on the bed and the carving on the candlesticks told him that this was a noble family, fairly well to-do, though the slightly threadbare nature of the sheets also seemed to say that they had fallen on harder times.

As he lay there, he began to realise that he had no idea when or where he was. The last thing he remembered was the battle of Tortosa. He tried to move, and groaned deeply. Though it was healing, his shoulder was still stiff and sore, and moving it was painful. He collapsed back onto the pillows, breathing heavily.

A scraping sounded, and the wooden door, swollen with humidity, slid open to let in three people. A maid came first, bearing a tray with soup, water and towels on it. Next was a tall, dark-haired woman, very much in the Catalan mould. Her fierce nose overshadowed much of her face, but she was certainly striking. She was wearing heavy black, with a black lace collar, and the veil of a widow. Clutching her arm was the third person, a young woman who was certainly her sister. The sister was smaller, pale and high-boned, with a wide mouth that twitched at every sound. Her eyes were wide open, framed by heavy lashes, and they were pearly white. She was blind.

The maid noticed Karkat's state first, and squeaked, bobbing a quick curtsey. The tall woman followed the sound and looked at Karkat. Her gaze was piercing but not severe, and she smiled at his blunt stare.

"So you have returned to us from the shores of the dead," she said. "Well well well. I'm am Latula Captor, the Vicountess of Castellbo, and this is my sister Terezi Pyrope. You have been our guest these some three weeks."

Karkat grunted in surprise, and then groaned. After three weeks of sleep, he was unable to speak. His throat felt closed and dry. Latula smiled at his groans, and Terezi tilted her head curiously. The maid tapped his good shoulder. She was holding a spoon of soup.

"Let me feed you, good sir, and then you will be able to speak."

Embarrassed but resigned, Karkat opened his mouth and the warm broth slid down his throat. It was a beef stew, cooked over a fire until the meat and vegetables were soft enough to melt on the tongue. The rich gravy was so good that he felt pressure behind his eyes - after weeks of stupor, tasting food was a real joy.

"So," Latula said, smoothing her skirt with her hands, "since you cannot speak, let me do the talking."

She looked out the window for a moment, and then began.

"The battle was won in spite of your injury," she said. "Fajardo has retaken Tortosa for Spain, and moved on towards Barcelona." She snorted. "He showed less kindness to his soldiers than we did to our enemies. He moved on merely two days later, leaving the wounded and the dead alike to our care."

Terezi's face twitched, and she muttered something that sounded like "disreputable Spanish bastard."

"I was making arrangements for the care of our soldiers when I came across you in the hospital," Latula continued. "It was pure chance. You were slumped in a bed, racked with fever and on the verge of death. I stopped only because your insignia brought back a memory." She held up the crest of his battalion, touching it with surprising tenderness. "I knew that I recognised it, but it was not until I was at the end of the ward that I realised where I had seen it before. My husband," her fingers touched her ring, turning it around, "dead these past three years, was a soldier himself, who fought for the Spanish crown in less... contentious times. He used to write me letter after letter, and often he would include details of his companies and officers. Once he mentioned a battalion of Italian soldiers with whom he had been proud to serve. He mentioned that their Captain had saved his life in a battle near Montpellier." Latula's gaze sharpened, and Karkat felt a tremor go through him. She was a woman to respect, no doubt about it. "His name was Mituna, and I think you are Karkat Vantas."

Karkat paused, then nodded, waving away the next spoonful.

"That's my name," he said, his voice low. "And I suppose I'm grateful to you. Without your help I'd no doubt be dead, or rotting slowly in a plague-house. I can't repay you except by leaving, which I'll do tomorrow."

Latula's eyes flickered, widening and then narrowing again.

"Don Karkat, you will do no such thing. I have long wanted to speak with you, and I hope you will stay as our guest until you are fully better." She stood up, her gown rustling, and moved to the door. "I have to go. There are many duties that require my attention. Terezi will keep you company, and I will come back to speak to you this evening." Her tone was final, and she did not wait for his reply.

When she was gone Terezi scooted closer, leaning over Karkat and reaching out with her hand. She patted his leg, his hand, his shoulder and his hair, and then sat back in her chair.

"I'm so glad you're awake," she said. "You're the most interesting thing that's happened in two years! You wouldn't believe how dull it is, being blind. I'm never allowed to go anywhere! But everyone is very good and tells me stories about the world. You must do the same." She had a gritty, cheerful voice, emphasised by her Catalan accent, and though it was nothing like Jade's sweet Italian, Karkat found it pleasant and easy to listen to.

"I don't have any stories for you," he growled. "I was a God-damned soldier, Dona Terezi. My stories are blood and muck and marching for twenty miles in sodden boots. You don't want to hear those."

The maid gasped and looked offended, which made Karkat feel smug, but Terezi didn't even blink.

"You're wrong," Terezi said, her voice scraping with excitement. "Those are the stories I like best. Tell me all about the world. I want to know everything."

Karkat stared at her. She was mad as the moon, this girl, her blank eyes shining at the thought of a soldier's misery, but she made him feel better than he had since he awoke.

"Fine," he said, "I'll tell you your bloody stories. But first, there's a letter I have to write. Can you ask for ink and parchment?"

It might not be so bad, resting here. He would have to leave, and join the army again soon, but he could wait to get his strength back. In the meantime, Jade should know that he was safe. She must be terribly worried. With thoughts of her tender face and clever eyes filling his mind, Karkat settled down to get well.

*

They had been riding for almost an hour, and Jade was cold, stiff and exhausted. They were making good progress, though, and they should reach the border at dawn.

"Dave will meet us on the next ridge," Rose said, riding closer to shout her words over the breeze. Kanaya glanced over at them, her face tense with concentration. Fear and excitement connected them like a golden thread.

As they moved up the incline the moon aligned with the crest of the hill, and against its brilliance Jade saw the silhouette of a horse and rider. Dave, she thought, and for a moment she felt nothing but delight. Then the details crept into her mind, and fear clutched at her heart. That was not Dave. The shadow was too big, the horse too large for Dave's slim mare.

"Turn back," she cried, already gripping her steed's reins tightly and tugging them sideways. Her horse slowed, began to turn and gallop back down the slope. On either side of her, Rose and Kanaya were doing the same thing. But it was too late. The silhouette was moving, gathering pace down the slope and slipping into darkness as it left the moon's light. Knowing that it was futile to go on, Jade pulled on the rein and slackened her pace to a walk. Kanaya and Rose moved some way ahead before they realised what she had done. The reined themselves in and turned back to look at her.

"Jade, what are you doing?" Rose's voice was shrill as a gull.

"Go," Jade said, not bothering to conceal her tears. "You mustn't be caught with me. I don't want you to get in trouble too." A thought occurred to her, and she rode forward, tugging open her saddlebag and pulling out her notes and books. She pressed them awkwardly into Rose's arms.

"Serenita must not be revealed," she said. And she added, with more hope than she felt, "someday I will come and ask for them back."

Rose stared at her for a long moment, then bowed her head, her blonde hair falling across her eyes.

"Oh, Jade."

She and Kanaya dug their heels in and moved away across the slope, vanishing into the distance as the silhouette emerged once more out of the shadows. It was Count Lagorio, as Jade had known it would be. His face was savage in the moonlight, and Jade trembled to see it.

One huge, gloved hand cracked backwards across her face, and she tasted blood.

"Did you really think you could escape me so easily?" His voice was a deep snarl. "What a surprise it must have been, to find me already here."

Jade did not give him the pleasure of asking how he had known she would be here, but he told her anyway, his voice sneering and smug.

"I don't have to be able to read a letter to know it's coded. And this is the smuggler's route to France. It was obvious you'd come this way."

She kept silent. She would not give him a single opening. He waited for a moment, then grabbed her reins and began to lead her home.

 

Grandfather and the Count were careful after that. They kept her locked up tight, and she was allowed to see and speak to no-one but the trusted housekeeper. The days dwindled away slowly, layered with silence and reproach. The nights were full of the pale and distant stars.

On the 27th of December they dressed her in pale blue and led her to the church. Flowers were scattered in her path like ashes, and the sky overhead was grey as lead. She kept her veil down, so that her red eyes could not be seen. She had been awake all last night, charting the movements of Mars. And if some tears had fallen during her long watch, what did it matter? Only her research counted now.

Bells were pealing as she reached the church, and she dismounted from her horse to find her Grandfather at her side.

"It does me proud to see you like this," he said while they walked. "I know Don Karkat's death hit you hard, and I know that you have suffered, but Jade, this will be good too. Marriage is a woman's true life. Just wait until you have a couple of children toddling at your feet. Then you'll know what it is to live."

He steered her down the aisle, to where Count Lagorio waited, his expression savage as a manticore. Jade could hear the admiring whispers of the crowd on either side, but they did not touch her. She felt as cold as ice.

The ceremony was long and dull, but at last there were rings to put on, and words to repeat, and a final "I do" to say. Jade considered silence, meaningless as that would be, but she did not bother. Karkat was dead. What did it matter who she married?

The Count did not speak to her until they were in the carriage, rolling back to the villa. When the doors had closed on them and the clatter of the wheels ensured their privacy, however, he allowed himself a smug smile.

"Since you were such a good girl," he said, "and you caused no trouble, perhaps I'll give you a present." Jade stiffened, very afraid of what that might be. From the pouch at his waist he took a crumpled parchment and tossed it to her. Jade hardly read it. Two things alone stood out, the date and the signature, tearing a choked scream from her throat.

_13th December._

_Karkat Vantas._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the drama begins. This is the least fluffy thing I've ever written, of that you may be sure.
> 
> Hmm... I'm not sure that there are any solid content notes that need clarification here. The Pyrope-Captors are Catalan, from Catalonia, which is one of the provinces of Spain. Spain is a beautiful place, but it doesn't have much structural unity, and it often feels more like an argument than a country. Catalonia and the Basque county in particular are always seeking independence from the rest of Spain, a history which extends even further back than the setting of this fic.
> 
> Actually one thing to bear in mind is that nations, as such, didn't really exist in the 17th Century. Italy is a collection of different states, as is Germany. Spain and Portugal are one country, but in a fractured and very tense way. France is united but not very powerful (and there's a lot of back and forth of various chunks on her borders) and England is probably the most solid but is also pretty isolationist.
> 
> Ok, I think that's it. If you have any questions, do drop me a comment and I'll reply as soon as possible.


	4. Three

"Karkat, tell me what's happening over there!"

Terezi's fingers gripped his sleeve and she tugged, pointing with her other hand into the crowd. It was market day, and the streets were thronged with stalls and people. Jugglers, acrobats and clowns moved through the fair, their caps always ready to catch anything that flashed like gold or silver. Street musicians and storytellers sat at the corners, calling out to children and adults alike. And in the gaps of the alleyways, thieves and gamblers lurked, happy to filch a coin or two from anyone stupid enough to wander near them.

Karkat was almost healed. For the past few weeks he had been exercising his tired muscles back to fitness, and his strength had almost fully returned. It was time for him to be on his way. And yet he delayed. He had found life with the Vicountess and her sister a peaceful oasis after two years of war. They were clever, lively company, and totally indifferent to his family background. And beyond those comforts, he had another reason for lingering. He had written to Jade almost a month ago, and had no reply. That was strange, and troubling. If he left she would not be able to reach him at all, and so he stayed.

"Karkat," Terezi said again, whining cheerfully, "you're not talking."

"Because I was thinking, damn you," Karkat snapped, but it was useless to argue with Terezi. "It's just a bunch of louts playing cards. Nothing even remotely-"

He stopped, recognising the brilliant blue insignia nestled at the table.

"Egbert?"

Terezi stiffened slightly, her head turning this way and that as it did when she was curious or confused. Karkat pulled her after him, moving to the table to reach out and shake the shoulder of his old friend.

John's face was so astonished that Karkat felt the entire farcical exchange had been worthwhile.

"Karkat? Can this really be you? But I had heard you were dead!" John tapped the arm of the man next to him, who looked up from the game irritably. "Good sir, can you see this man here, or have I encountered a ghost?"

Karkat grimaced and lifted John bodily away from the table.

"Come with me, you wine-addled fool. Of course I'm not a ghost. I was injured, not murdered. Kindly scrounge your last ounce of sense from the dregs of your mind and explain to me what you're doing here."

"Looking for you, of course," John said. "Or rather, for your remains. Great-uncle instructed me to bear them back to Genoa for burial."

"Don Karkat," Terezi put in, cackling as she spoke, "you've neglected to introduce me. Who is this melodious sounding gentleman?"

Karkat looked back and forth between them for a moment, and then groaned.

"I need some wine to deal with you two idiots. Let's go to a tavern."

 

When they were settled in a nook of the nearest tavern, away from the reek of beer and piss and the noise of the merry crowd, they began to lay out John's story.

"I received a letter just two days ago," he said, "born by the Captain of the Crosshair. He wasn't best pleased, told me he'd spent several days chasing me from port to port. But he gave me the letter all the same-"

"Get on with it, arsejabber," Karkat snapped. John looked faintly shocked at Karkat's language, but Terezi giggled.

"Please don't mind me," she said. "I may be blind, but that doesn't mean I'm naive."

"Well," John said, rolling the word around in his mouth, "there isn't much to say. Uncle asked me to look for you, and so I left the ship at L’Ampolia and rode here. I was on my way to the hospital when I was, uh, waylaid by the game. But I found you, so it's all well!"

Karkat rolled his eyes.

"Why did they even think I was dead?"

John shrugged.

"They got a letter, apparently. Jade was distraught, of course." He stopped, and his face whitened until it was the colour of sour cream. "You don't know?"

Karkat felt his stomach knot itself into a ball.

"Know what?"

"She thought you were dead," John said. "She cried for weeks. Uncle said so in the letter. And I don't think it was even her choice. I mean, Uncle didn't say, but I know Jade, she wouldn't..."

"Egbert, if you could remove your cranium from the deepest recesses of the cesspool where you usually keep it, you might realise I have no idea what you're talking about."

John swallowed, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet.

"Karkat, she's married. Jade got married almost two weeks ago."

 

Karkat felt Terezi try to restrain him, but he shook her off. He left the tavern, stumbling almost blindly through the streets. He was shaking with rage. He went to the cheapest, dirtiest inn he could find and swilled herbero until his hands and fingers were numb and every sound seemed to be filtered through a cloud of feathers.

He lurched out into the night air, chill and faintly misty, and launched himself into the nearest fight, a spill-over from another seedy inn. He held nothing back, fighting with the brutal efficiency of a soldier, and by the time the town guard arrived to break them up he had lain sixteen men out on the ground, groaning or unconscious. The guards took one look at him and dragged him off to the courthouse, shoving him into a chill, damp cell. He leant his aching head against the cold wall and drifted into an uneasy slumber.

 *

Jade reached her new home on the 3rd of January. Senigallia was a city on the eastern coast of the Italian peninsula, bisected by the river Misa. It was part of the Papal States, governed in those days directly by the Pope in Rome. In the last century Senigallia had been contended over by the noble families of Italy - the Borgias and the de Medicis - but the wars were over, and Pope Urban VIII had long since settled the land for himself.

Caliborn lived in a towering, four-towered castle in the middle of the city. From the outside it was forbidding and cold, and Jade thought that she could not have imagined a castle more perfectly suited to the Count. As the carriage rolled into the courtyard she reconsidered a little. The inner walls were lined with large windows, and the stone of the walls was clean and well cut. But when she turned her head back to the man beside here, she knew she had no hope of being happy here.

The worst fear in her heart - that he would truly make her his wife - had not yet come to pass. In fact, he seemed to have very little interest in her. They had hardly spoken, except when he made some snarling remark to her. She knew, by listening to his soldiers, that he visited prostitutes, and part of her felt that she should be shocked, but mostly she was just grateful.

What Jade wanted more than anything was an hour to herself, to bathe and rest. She was exhausted from a week of travel, and she had had very little privacy in all that time. This luxury, however, was not granted to her. She was shown all over the castle, which was at least twice the size of her old home, and Caliborn and his butler both made a great many comments about the new duties she was to take on, which included management of the household finances, oversight of the housekeeping, ordering the evening meal every day, hiring and sacking the servants (excluding those the butler managed himself), and organising a number of social events every year. Jade was hardly able to take any of it in.

She was granted a short half hour to ready herself for dinner, but it was not until she stumbled to bed, accompanied by the bells of midnight, that she had any measure of peace. Lying in her cold, huge bed, looking at the moon as it fractured through her window, she tried to think. _At least my room is my own_. A profound wave of gratitude overwhelmed her, and she thought that if there was a God, then he played such cruel tricks, to hurt her so much and then to shelter her from pain when all else was lost.

In spite of her misery, Jade had already begun to make plans. That the household finances were at her command was not entirely unexpected, but it was still good fortune. If she was careful, and judicious in her spending, she should be able to put some away for herself. She had lost all her equipment in her marriage, and having a telescope made was her first priority. In the meantime, there were several simple experiments that she could perform. Life might take love and happiness from her, but she was still a natural philosopher. She would corroborate Galileo’s theories, and she would do more. That would be her life It would have to be enough.

The moon slid away from her eyes, and Jade fell deeply asleep.

 

Over the course of the next few weeks, she put her plans into action. In the end it was simpler than expected. Makara, the butler, was apparently an old comrade of Caliborn's, and Jade assumed that that was the reason for his continued employment, because his control of the household was slack at best. She found it easy to choose better bargains in goods and food, easy to sack the slack servants and hire better, easy to trim the fat off the accounts without it being noticed. It was dull work, routine and mindless, but Jade did it well, and reserved her energy for the endless nights alone with the stars. It was not the life she had dreamed of, and she knew, when she gave herself a moment to think, that her heart was merely scabbed over, not healed. Still, by the time three weeks had passed she was at least resigned, and she hoped one day to be complacent.

 *

Karkat awoke to the sound of the wooden door scraping back across the stone floor. He was cold and there was a pounding headache behind his eyes. For a blissful moment memory escaped him, and he had no idea where he was, but the events of yesterday reasserted themselves almost at once. He felt a faint sense of satisfaction, feeling his head pound to the echoing footsteps, but it wasn't enough. He pressed his palms to his temple and groaned.

"Well, at least you're not smiling."

Karkat looked up into Latula's face, which was carved with lines of livid anger. A stronger man than he was would have quailed before that glare. He tucked his head back into his arms.

"The guard has told me that if I like, I can leave you to rot in here for quite some time. A foreign soldier causing brawls in the city? Your hair will be white by the time you walk outside these walls again. So give me one reason why I shouldn't. And if you mention Mituna, I'll make them double their sentence."

Karkat did not move.

"You might at least ask them to kill me now," he said. "It would be simpler."

Latula's hand shot out and caught his doublet. She pulled him forward so that he was held half upright and forced to look at her.

"You left my sister alone, in the city, with only a strange man for company. I don't care what news you just heard, that was an outrage. Have you no honour as a man?"

Karkat shrugged.

"John has enough for both of us. He's been like a brother to me for fourteen years. I knew he would see her home safely."

Latula almost snarled, but before she could choke out a condemning sentence the sound of footsteps stopped her. Their hesitant, patient echo was unmistakable.

"Sister, let me talk to him," Terezi said. "It's me he hurt, after all."

Latula hesitated, then nodded slowly.

"I'll wait at the top of the stairs."

She dropped Karkat back in his heap and walked away with a swish of her heavy black skirt. Karkat hunched back up in a heap, his head swimming from all the movement.

"If you're looking for an apology you can fuck off. I don't give a shit." The words were foul enough to make even Terezi blink, but then she sighed and knelt beside him. Her pearly eyes stared beyond him, to whatever it was that her mind saw.

"It's really stupid to fall to pieces like this. I don't care how special she was. Sometimes love doesn't work out. Look at Latula. Her husband died. She didn't give up. She kept going." Her voice grew sharp. "I didn't think you were this weak."

"I told you to fuck off," Karkat said. "You don't understand."

"So explain, you idiot. You gave John enough stick about being stupid, but right now you look pretty foolish to me! I think at the very least I deserve an explanation."

Karkat groaned and retreated into his huddle. When the words came, they were quiet enough that even Terezi had to lean close to catch them.

"I grew up tainted with the knowledge that I was a bastard. It doesn't matter that half of Italy is the same way. Doesn't matter that most cardinals had more sons than their lordly cousins. I was always, always told that I wasn't good enough. My older brother is a bishop like dear old dad, but I didn't even get a title. I'm nothing.

"Jade was the only person who never thought about that. I don't mean that she liked me in spite of my birth, or that she told me it didn't matter. She just never considered it. When she judged me, it was for a hundred different reasons, some of them pretty stupid, but never for that. She's a wonderful person, you know. She's kind, and clever, and generous. She can talk business with John one moment and science with Rose the next. When I was with her, I felt like the world was huge and full of possibilities. She made everything she touched bigger, just by speaking about it.

"And then, she was always so untouchable. The granddaughter of the Baron. Nobody ever told us, but they made it obvious that I was beneath her. Unless I did something to prove myself, that is. So I decided I would. I begged a commission of Jade’s grandfather, and joined the army. I fought across Europe for two years, and in my mind I laid out my grand plan. I was going to be knighted, and rewarded with gold and jewels and a real title, and then I would return home and ask Jade to marry me, and she'd be free to say yes. But if she's married already, then it's meaningless. Everything I've ever done is meaningless."

There was a long moment of silence. Terezi took his hand and held it, but she didn't offer any words of sympathy, and for that he was grateful.

"What are you going to do now?" she said at last.

"What does it look like?" Karkat said, but there was no bite to the words.

Terezi sighed, the long whuff of someone impatient with melodrama.

"I have a deal to offer you," she said, and before he could object she was speaking again. "What you want to do to yourself is a sin against God, and more than that it’s stupid, but I have no power stop you. But even if your life is worth nothing to you, it has some value to me. If you don't need it, then let me have it. And since I'm a woman, and blind, you can take my place and go where I can't." Her grip on his hand tightened. "Karkat, this is the time for Catalan freedom. I feel it in my bones. We must win now, or we never will. And every soldier will make a difference. If only I could go and fight. I don't want anything else. But I can't. So you take my place. If nothing else, it will be a better death than rotting in a jail cell. And in the end, who knows what will happen? You might achieve part of your dream after all."

Karkat thought about it for a long moment. But really, there was no alternative. He stood up, still wobbly, and bowed over her hand.

"As you wish. I will be your knight, Terezi, until my blood spills out across the fields of Spain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes!
> 
> There are a couple of canon cameos in this chapter. I'll leave you to figure out which incarnation of the characters it is, though.
> 
> Telescopes were still pretty new technology at this point. Jade would have had to go to a glassblower to make her the lenses, and then to a woodworker or a blacksmith to make the tube. Which is complicated, but probably helps with secrecy, in a weird way.
> 
> The information about Senigallia is as accurate as I can make it. I had a specific reason for choosing it, which I'll mention in later chapters, but also I really liked the castle. Sadly I couldn't find the title of the people who actually used it, or even if it was still in use as s residential house in this period, so I decided fuck it, may as well put Caliborn there. Jade is not kidding when she says the outside suits him: http://media-1.web.britannica.com/eb-media/51/143051-004-1B98B98D.jpg
> 
> Another note, which I forgot to make in earlier chapters (go figure): Jade and Karkat's timelines, though internally consistent, don't match up chapter to chapter. The events of Jade's section in Chapter Two, for example, happen between one and two weeks after the events of Karkat's section. Her timeline here is also earlier than his, although that will flip in the next chapter. (One of the things that took me the longest, actually, was drawing up a goddamned consistent timeline. Partially because I had to make sure it all aligned with the real events.)
> 
> Hmm I think that's it for today. Tomorrow's notes will have some commentary on parallels to Homestuck, and a little sidenote for one of the characters. As always, leave me a comment if you have any questions or see any mistakes. You can also contact me privately on tumblr, if you'd prefer.


	5. Four

"The battle will begin at dawn," the young lieutenant said, standing to attention at the doorway. "I was bid send word to you of this development."

Karkat nodded shortly and waved him away. The younger men in the militia had quickly mistaken Karkat's reckless fighting for courage and patriotism, and he had become something of a local legend. It was wearing, to say the least.

It had been just under three weeks since his promise to Terezi, but Karkat was already exhausted. Battles were fine while you fought them, but the dreams that came afterwards, full of muck and blood and screaming, wore him down. He was longing for release, and it evaded him.

Twice in the past five skirmishes he had been sure he was dead. He'd looked at his enemy and thought "it will be you". But both times, when it came sword to sword or gun to gun, he had won. He was unkillable when he most wanted to die. The thought filled his mouth with a bitter taste.

It was at moments like this, when encroaching violence and the late night set reality askew, that he remembered Jade mostly strongly. If he didn't turn his head, he could feel her lying on the couch behind him, her nose in a book. She would peer over the edge at him, tilt her head like an inquisitive puppy and ask why he looked so worried.

"What's keeping you up so late? Honestly Karkat, how can you lead men if you're exhausted? Come over here and sleep. Just for half an hour. I promise I'll wake you up when the bells chime."

He half turned, and the candles flickered, and just for a moment he saw movement. And then it was gone, and he was alone. A groan escaped him, and he turned back to his maps and charts. This would be the decisive battle. If they won, the momentum would drive the Spanish out of Catalonia. If they lost, the rebellion would be over. Either way, his promise to Terezi would be fulfilled.

"Still awake, Don Karkat?" The voice at the door was high and sweet, not wholly dissimilar to Jade's, but with a heavy Portuguese accent.

"Your Grace," Karkat said, standing and bowing shortly. The woman in the doorway echoed his movement, smiling. This was Feferi Peixes, the Duchess of Coimbra. When he had explained his intentions to Latula, she had given him a letter to bear to her. "I was just looking over the maps."

"I doubt you'll learn anything from them now," Feferi said. "I know that the night before a battle is always an anxious one, but there is nothing to be gained by fretting your sleep away. And your information on the army approaching has already been invaluable." She paused a moment. "I hope you do not think we have imposed on your honour by asking for that information."

"No, your Grace, I don't care. I was always a soldier of fortune. One side is much the same as the other. And I was fulfilling a promise."

"So you are fighting to win a war you don't care about?" Feferi's smile was as calm as water, but her eyes were curious.

"Your Grace, the politics of countries is something I have no interest in. I was born in the Papal States, but raised in Genoa. Nationality means little to me. I like the Catalans that I have met. If they want to be free, that's enough. I'm sure I could say the same of the Portuguese, if I knew any besides you."

Feferi nodded slowly.

"My younger sister, who is the Duchess of Goa by marriage, thinks that I'm being foolish. She tells me to leave the Catalans to their wars and focus on the freedom of Portugal. But I believe that anything that weakens Spain is to our advantage. That's why I came here."

She stood up, and moved towards the door.

"You're a good soldier, and a good leader of men. If I offered you a place in my Duchy, would you come? I could make you rich."

Karkat did not look at her.

"If I live, your Grace, I will."

He did not offer her his own opinion on the likelihood of that ending.

 *

Senigallia was warmer than Genoa, and though it was still January, Jade had found the nights balmy enough. On clear nights, long after everyone else in the castle was asleep, she would slip up to the roof to watch the stars. Only when dawn began to whiten the sky in the east would she return to her bed.

Her telescope had recently arrived, which allowed her to resume her work. She was charting the new stars, marking them out on maps as well as she could. It made her dizzy to think how many more she could see with such a simple instrument. How many stars were there? What were they made of? How far away were they? Jade did not feel diminished or reduced by such questions. Instead she felt expanded. How wonderful it was, this huge universe, and how amazing it was that she was a part of it.

She turned to Karkat to say as much. The wall beside her was cold and empty. Two drops of water fell on the stone, before she could blink them back. It was so terribly bearable, this life without him. Every day was an act of endurance, without even the hope of outlasting what she endured, and the nights were even harder. The night had always been for them. It was Karkat who had spent his youth watching the stars with her, who had helped her sneak out and carried her home sleeping to bed. It was Karkat who had given out to her when she made herself ill by going out in the winter snows, and it was Karkat who had celebrated with her when she charted the transit of Venus across the sun.

I miss you. There was no way to say it. Her only contact was with John, heavily coded letters for him to pass on to Rose, in the hopes that they might reach Serenita.

Perhaps it was her grief that distracted her, but she did not hear the footsteps on the stone until it was too late. A shadow loomed over her, and she looked up into Caliborn's twisted face.

"What is this?" he said, leaning over her star chart. Jade wanted to cover it up, to hide it away from his cruel eyes, flashing by the light of the torch he carried. But it was too late for that. She saw his lip curl as he read her writing, and then with a snarl he grabbed the parchment and tore it in half.

Jade watched the edges fray beneath his savage fingers, watched hours of work shred to nothing. She looked at Caliborn, and saw in his half-furious, half-satisfied expression the first inkling of the truth behind her marriage.

"Heresy," he said, his voice terrifyingly loud. Jade wanted to press her hands to her ears and shut him out. "Heresy in my house."

He picked her up by the arm and hauled her after him, dragging her downstairs and into her chamber, and slamming the door behind him.

"Did you think I didn't know?" Jade swallowed. She had no idea how to reply to him. "Your grandfather warned me about you, though he seemed to think it was only harmless fun. But I knew the moment he spoke of you, that you were one of them. One of Serenita. That vile band of witches. And I knew, if I left you to your own devices, you would reveal yourself. Now tell me where she is!"

His voice was so loud it seemed to shake the room. Jade could feel her bones shaking with the force of it, but she did not let herself bend.

"I have no idea what you mean."

"My sister! Tell me where my sister is."

Jade felt two emotions rise within her. The first was relief. She knew of the mysterious leader of Serenita, of course. Every so often she would receive a letter from the mysterious Muse, full of commentary on her ideas. Whoever Muse was, she was a brilliant scientist, at least the equal of Galileo or Copernicus. But Jade had no idea of her location or identity. She could not give Muse away.

Her terror had an equal source. There were people she could betray. Rose and Kanaya, for a start, and Rose's mother, who had introduced them to Serenita when she saw their interest in science. And others, whom Jade had only written to: Aradia in Greece, Feferi in Portugal. Jade might not know their full names, or their specific locations, but surely she knew enough. And though she considered herself brave, she did not know how well she could resist if Caliborn hurt her.

Caliborn must have read something of her thoughts in her expression, because his expression darkened even further. He drew himself upright, and Jade closed her eyes in expectation of the first blow, but it did not come. He walked to the door.

"This calls for an inquisitor, I think, since you are clearly a witch, who seduced and entrapped me with a love potion." The pleasure in his voice was repulsive. He stepped out and locked the door behind him, and Jade was left alone.

 *

The morning of the 26th of January dawned bright and early over Barcelona. The air was full of the dawn chorus, and across the still dark fields, the fires of the Spanish army were paling against the rising sun. It was the moment of crushing stillness, just before the fight begins.

Then something changed, something imperceptible, and a horn was called and another answered, and across the open field the battle began.

Karkat stood with his band of men, the same men who had fought with him in every skirmish of the war so far. They were stationed to the right-flank of the army, far away from his old battalion. That mercy, at least, they had granted Karkat. He would not directly fight old comrades.

The charge was coming, gathering speed, and the crack and whine of the guns began, each hit making the soldiers around him more hopeful. Then the wave of men and horses reached them, and broke upon them, and they fragmented into the mire of battle.

His horse was no Gambero, but it was a fine, unshying steed, and Karkat was a good enough horseman to keep his seat when the reins were useless. He kept his gun steady, aimed carefully between his own duckings and dodgings, and concentrated on unhorsing each rider who came his way.

His luck couldn't hold forever, though, and a shot he didn't see hit his mare in the flank. She pitched and bucked, and Karkat was flung off her back and into the churned up mud. He pulled himself up and drew his sword, swinging it furiously at the man who charged him. His arm fell at once into its old patterns, and with efficient hacks and slashes he cleaved a way through screaming men towards his comrades.

"We press forward," he shouted to them. "Keep the sons of bitches isolated. Don't let them rejoin the main force." His men nodded seriously, and they slipped into their now well-practised formation, a rotating mass of guns ready to unseat any rider foolish enough to come their way.

The morning wore on, long and exhausting. Karkat was covered in muck and blood, and his aim was getting poorer. He had no sense of how the battle was going, only that it had not yet been won or lost.

Then the man appeared. He had been lying, half-buried in the earth, but as Karkat stepped forward he rose up and swung his sword forward. Karkat blocked, but only barely. For the third time since his oath to Terezi, he faced his death. At last, he thought, and then he wasn't sure if he had. Faced with the whipping edge of a sabre, his only instinct was to keep it away from himself. Even now, with nothing to fight for, no one to go home to, and nothing to gain by his victory, he could not bring himself to die.

So. I will live, and go to Portugal, and I will see what awaits me there. The thought seemed heavier than death. His sword slid through his enemy's chest, and the Spanish man, whom he had never known or hated, bought Karkat's life by dying.

 

Later, historians called it the battle of Montjuic. It was a heavy defeat for Spain, and in its own way it marked the beginning of the long decline of Spanish dominance in Europe. Pedro Fajardo, once thought a great commander, lost his position as Viceroy of Catalan and dwindled out of history.

Karkat, of course, knew none of this. He was in Barcelona, celebrating with its citizens. The day after the battle there was a great festival in the streets, and a ceremony to honour those who had fought valiantly. A little after noon, under the clear winter sun, Karkat found himself kneeling before Feferi Peixes, and he felt the weight of the sword on his shoulder.

"For your courage in battle, for your leadership on and off the field, and for the bravery of your choice in changing sides and fighting for freedom, I dub thee Don Karkat Vantas, Baron de Pereira da Mota."

And then there was cheering, and wine, and so much celebration that he was overwhelmed. He lost himself in all the revelry, and remembered little of the afternoon afterwards.

Late in the evening he crept away from the crowd, which was as buoyant as it had been earlier, and found himself a quiet nook to sit and think in. His dream was in his hands, and yet he didn't know when he had wanted it less. It felt impossibly undeserved. He had hacked men to pieces for this, and with what aim? Money? Power? A girl across the sea with a husband already? It seemed so bitterly unfair that he had received this now.

If only my fortunes had changed a month earlier.

"You look downcast, Barao," Feferi said, standing behind him. He looked up at her.

"Your Grace, I was simply thinking."

"Well then I have something to add to your thoughts." Feferi pulled up a chair and sat down beside him. "Latula and I have been writing back and forth, these past few weeks. We were ladies-in-waiting together, you know, at the court. She said to tell you, if you survived today, that if you wish it she will gladly permit a marriage between you and Terezi." Feferi tilted her head and smiled, a little mischievously. "I would be most delighted to make all the arrangements on your behalf, since I know your lands better than you do right now."

Karkat had nothing to say. He stared at her, dumbfounded.

"Well," she said, "sleep on it. Latula and Terezi are coming to Barcelona as we speak. You can talk to the lady herself and then give me an answer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo I get to make some interesting notes!
> 
> One thing I wanted to do in this fic was to integrate the story with elements of Homestuck canon. Caliborn is the villain, Jade is interested in science, etc. I also wanted to find a way to integrate their hero roles into the narrative. For Karkat, this was easy. Illegitimate blood was pretty much akin to the social stigma of being a mutant, and he was always going to be something like a knight. His last line of that last chapter is also a solid reference to that.
> 
> Jade was more difficult. Being accused of being a witch in this era, with the inquisition at the height of its powers and the immense tension between science and religion, was an almost certain path to death. Jade is in a serious amount of danger right now. It's estimated, for example, that between 40,000 and 100,000 people were executed for witchcraft between the 15th and 18th centuries. (I should also note that Jade is accused by Caliborn of two separate things. Heresy is the crime of denying Aristotle's theory that the earth was the centre of the universe, while witchcraft is putting a "love spell" on him).
> 
> Caliborn also ties into all this, but I'm going to wait a couple of chapters to talk about him.
> 
> More history:
> 
> The battle that Karkat fights is real, they did win, and for a time Catalonia seceded from Spain, becoming part of France. Feferi's title is also real, and among other things Coimbra boast the oldest continually open university in Europe.
> 
> Speaking of Feferi, there's a note about her that I couldn't work into the story. She and Latula, when they were ladies-in-waiting together, fell in love with twins, Sollux and Mituna. Latula married Mituna, of course, but Feferi did not marry Sollux. Much as she loved him, if she had married him she would have lost her position as Duchess of Coimbra, and her power, and she valued what she could do there more than she valued love.


	6. Five

Karkat spent most of the next three days thinking, but if there was a conclusion to come to, he did not reach it. Around him the city of Barcelona resumed its daily life, burying its dead and wounded and repairing the damage done by the fighting. There was a certain warmth in the air, not yet spring but the promise of an end to winter. To the east the Mediterranean was flat and unruffled, rolling out across hundreds of miles to the Italian shore.

Leaning on the battlements, Karkat willed his vision to reach across that impossible distance. Somewhere beyond the blue sea, patched with white where the clouds passed across it, Jade was living. He couldn't help wondering about her. Was she happy? Did she miss him? Did she even know that he was alive? Part of him wished her misery, just out of spite, but the rest of him was generous enough to hope that she was content with her life. She had spoken to him frequently of the dangers a woman faced, and he knew that she'd had no choice in her own fate. But generosity could not bring them back together. They were as severed as if he really had died.

There was a clatter of wheels outside the gate, and Karkat looked down to see Latula's carriage rolling through the gate into the courtyard. As he watched, she climbed out, aided by a servant, and held her arm back into the carriage for her sister to take. Terezi stepped out carefully, feeling her way slowly down each step. Her movements were tentative but sure. She knew what she was searching for, and she trusted Latula to warn her of anything else. Karkat was reminded of something he had noticed during his stay with them in Tortosa. It wasn't that Terezi had overcome her disadvantage, or that she never suffered from it, but that her disadvantage had not reduced the beauty or the complexity of the world she experienced at all. With that thought, his decision was made.

He sat next to her at dinner that evening, the placing determined with many chuckles from Latula and Feferi. Karkat rolled his eyes and ignored them, and spent most of the evening telling Terezi about the battles he had fought in. As always, she wanted him to delve into the goriest details, and no matter how gruesome his stories became, she never blushed or shuddered. She just laughed, her wide mouth split in a vicious grin. And it was almost enough.

"What happened to John?" he asked, over sorbet. "He was still loitering around when I left. Where did he go?"

"He received a letter," Terezi said, "and left us at once. I don't know who sent it, or what it contained, but he told us it was extremely important. He said he would rejoin us here." Her voice became more teasing. "He said he wanted to have words with you."

"Of course he does," Karkat said, a groan escaping his lips. "Probably to lecture me endlessly about how Jade wouldn't want me to destroy myself, to remind me that she would want me to live a better, purer life."

"Are you saying that she wouldn't?"

"I am saying that I no longer care what she would have wanted. She and I have no connection any more."

Terezi said nothing to that. She turned her white eyes to him for a long moment and then looked away again.

 

There was a dance that evening, for no other reason than because Feferi wanted one. As an eminent and powerful guest, her whims were catered to on every possible occasion. It was a light and cheerful affair, all country dancing, and most of that very light and fast. Karkat did the minimum possible, dancing once with Feferi and once with Latula. They were both well-trained, and by any standard excellent partners, matching themselves to his clumsier steps with no complaint. But he could not enjoy himself. It was too much a reminder of Jade. She was, if anything, a worse dancer than he was, always tripping over her skirts and colliding with with other dancers. And yet, without fail, every time she had a chance she would drag him onto the dance floor, laughing at his mistakes as well as her own. And when they had been dancing for an hour or so, and her face was flushed and her eyes sparkling, she would look at him...

He went and sat by Terezi, who was nodding her head cheerfully in time to the music. She acknowledged him with a hand pat, but did not turn her attention away from the sound. Only when the song was over did she say anything.

"You gave up on dancing very early."

"Not as early as you."

Terezi shrugged.

"I can dance," she said. "My sister taught me herself, when I was little. But if I dance in a crowd I become disorientated and dizzy. I still love the music, though."

There was a moment of silence. Karkat saw the musicians setting their bows to their instruments and took his chance.

"Terezi, I would very much like to speak to you tomorrow morning."

She stiffened slightly, then rolled her shoulders out and nodded.

"Of course."

 *

Jade kept track of the days by marking notches on her bedpost. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. She contemplated suicide, but it was not in her nature to give up hope. If death came to her she would accept it, but she refused to seek it out herself. She spent most of her time at her window, watching the changing skies or the comings and goings of people in the courtyard below. She saw many priests, and tried to not to feel afraid of them, not always with success.

Witch. It was such a dangerous word. She didn't know a woman who didn't fear it. To be named a witch was to face death, and even if you were exonerated, it was a mark against your name forever. She knew that at least two members of Serenita had been killed as witches. Now she seemed likely to become a third. If she was sentenced – and she could not imagine that she would not be – her only hope was to somehow smuggle out her research before she died. She had been preparing her notes all week, reading over them, memorising them. Some she kept aside to help in her own defence, but almost everything was bound and hidden away. All she needed was the impossible: a way to communicate them without revealing herself.

On the morning of the eighth day they came for her, Makara and two soldiers, and they led her down to the banqueting hall, which had been restaged as a courtroom. Caliborn sat in his huge, carved chair to one side of the room, and Jade trembled to see the happiness on his face. In the centre of the room was a simpler chair, occupied by a slim, frail man with ginger hair and a weak beard. By his white habit and black cowl she knew him to be a Dominican monk and a member of the Inquisition.

"This is Friar Nicolas Cammeresi. He will try your case."

Jade dropped a low curtsey.

"Friar Nicolas," she said. They led her forward and sat her on a low stool in front of the dais. She let her head bow modestly, and kept her eyes to the ground. She wanted to give herself every chance of making a favourable impression.

"Let me look at you," the inquisitor said, and she met his eyes. There was something speculative in them, which she distrusted. Still, she kept her eyes on his until he turned away.

"The charges laid against you today are twofold. You are accused of reading the works of Galileo Galilei, and of seeking to reinforce his heretical beliefs with false science. You are furthermore accused of witchcraft, and of colluding with Satanic powers to enchant a noble and upright man and seduce him into marriage. What is your answer to these crimes?"

"Good sir, if you ask me to deny that I have read the works of Galileo, or that I have sought to confirm them for myself, then I cannot deny this. But I am not a witch. I have less knowledge of the dark powers than you yourself. And I have always sought to prove the truth of the world with an aim to further God's glory, not to diminish it." Her voice was shaking as she spoke, and she had to force each syllable between her teeth. But it was worth it for the moment when she glanced at Caliborn and saw his face livid with rage.

Over the next three days, they showed the evidence against her. Jade answered truthfully, as well as she could, and sprinkled her truth with devotion to God for good measure. She had determined from the start that she would not lie, not even once. It was the only choice she had left to make. She already knew that her life was forfeit, but she wanted to die on her own terms.

On the fourth day they called on Caliborn as a witness. Jade watched him step forward to testify, her skin crawling with terror and revulsion. They had called on the servants earlier, but the testimony had been inconclusive. Caliborn alone would determine the blackness of her soul.

"Good Count," Nicolas said, his reedy voice slow and patient, "there can be no doubt as to Lady Lagorio's heretical tendencies, but we have yet to find evidence of witchcraft. What convinced you of her devotion to the black arts?"  
"Why else would I have married her?" Caliborn said, his deep, booming voice cutting across Jade's mind. "A man like myself, who has served the church faithfully for so many years, how could I have married a heretic unless I was seduced? She beguiled me with a love potion."

"Do you admit to this?" Nicolas asked, turning to Jade.

"Good Friar, I deny it with all my heart. At the time when I was engaged and married to my husband, I was in mourning for the death of a dear friend. My marriage was arranged for me by my Grandfather, and truthfully, I was most shocked to hear of it."

Nicolas nodded slowly, and turned back to Caliborn.

"What other evidence have you?"

"She spent many nights upon the roof," Caliborn said. "She used to sneak out when the house was sleeping, and perform strange rituals upon the battlements. When I caught her last week, she was murmuring in tongues to herself, invoking the names of demons. And I found this under her pillow when I searched her room." He held forth a piece of parchment, painted with several strange circles. Jade had no idea what it was, and had never seen it before in her life, but that did not matter. After all, what was a witch but a liar?

The friar took the parchment and scoured it carefully. Jade said nothing. Her eyes, fixed on the tiled floor, mapped out its patterns.

"This is serious, indeed," Nicolas said. "These patterns are the certain sign of a witch." He turned his gaze back to Jade. "Come, what do you say to this? Will you plead your guilt?"

"Sir, I am guilty indeed." She did not count it as a lie. She was guilty of one crime, in any case, and in their eyes she was guilty of everything. "I beg the forgiveness of the Lord."

Jade couldn't help it - her eyes flashed to Caliborn's face. Its expression was unsettled. In the eyes there was a grim and violent satisfaction, but the mouth was twisted with something like regret. Jade felt an uncanny certainty that he wished they had had to torture the confession from her.

"Well." Nicolas' voice was heavy. "Since you have confessed, and faced your crime, I will grant you a reprieve. You have a month to repent. Spend your days in prayer and make your peace with God. And when that month has passed, you will be taken to the square and burned to ash."

Jade felt nothing, no shiver of fear passing through her. Her flesh was as cold as ice. She wondered if it was even possible for someone as cold as her to burn.

"This is not enough!" The snarling cry shocked Jade, and she looked up. Caliborn was striding forward. He picked her up and shook her, jolting her back and forth until she hardly knew where she was. "Tell me where she is. You must tell me." His head whipped around to Nicolas. "Make her tell me where my sister is hiding."

"That is not my task," Nicolas said slowly. "I was charged to find her guilt only, and that, I have done. The rest is for God to unveil."

Caliborn clamped his jaws around another shout, grinding his teeth together, his one gold tooth gleaming in the light from the long windows. He dropped Jade, and she collapsed on the ground, huddling in on herself as he strode away.

The soldiers moved in around her and lifted her roughly to her feet again, bearing her off to the room where she would spend the last days of her life.

 *

A low mist was rolling across the city, in from the sea, and the sun shone through it with a dim and hazy glow. The beads of water and the pale white light gave the towers and domes of the city an aura, as though some supernatural force had lit them from within. Karkat supposed he should have been touched by this spectacle, or found it significant in some way, but it did not move him. His stomach was churning, and his head was leaden with lack of sleep. All night he had been kept awake by troubling and painful dreams, and he was sick to death of omens.

Terezi stood on the rampart wall, her head turned towards the sea. He wondered what she was experiencing: without sight, what kind of atmosphere did the chilly air, the stench of salt water and the clacking cries of the gulls create?

"Good morning." His voice cracked on the words. Terezi tilted her head in greeting.

"The same to you. You're late, you know." She turned her eyes towards him, so white they looked as if they had been pearled with water like the city.

"Forgive me," Karkat said shortly. "I wanted to speak to you alone. I have something of great importance to ask you."

Terezi nodded but said nothing. Her face was very still. This was the moment.

"Will you marry me?" The words came out strangled, almost choked. He rushed to qualify them, stumbling over his own tongue in his haste. "I can offer you a comfortable life. You will want for nothing. And there will be people you know. Feferi is the Duchess of Coimbra, you'll see her often. Your sister can come and visit whenever she likes."

"Stop."

He stopped. Terezi turned her empty gaze back towards the sea, away from him.

"What is she like? The girl you love?"

"Jade?" The name was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "I- she doesn't matter. She is gone, now."

"That's not what I asked," Terezi said.

Karkat wondered what to say, and why she wanted to know, and he was half tempted to be vicious and cruel to Jade, to hide away from his memories. But he didn’t.

"She's a little taller than you," he said at last. "She has black hair, which she never keeps up properly, and green eyes always buried in a book. She burns black in the summer, and fades in winter. She has big teeth, and when she laughs her opens her mouth too widely. When we were younger she always had grass stains on her knees. She could never pass a tree without climbing it."

Karkat found that he was smiling, without having noticed it, and he pressed a hand to his mouth.

"I like you, Karkat," Terezi said, and she smiled a wicked smile. "But I like the truth so much more."

He laughed, painfully, and rested his arms on the balcony beside her.

"What do I do?"

Terezi shrugged.

"How should I know? Why don't you ask John? He should be here tomorrow."

Karkat groaned.

"Where did he even go?" he said.

Terezi made a circular gesture with her fingers.

"He didn't say. He got a letter and dashed off to his ship. Told us he would meet us here."

Karkat nodded, and they were silent for a long while.

"Thank you," he said at last. Terezi sniggered and elbowed him in the side, and he gasped with mock pain and it was almost alright again.

 

"Don Karkat, there are visitors with the Duchess. They say they have come to see you."

Karkat, who had been sitting in his study reading a recent edition of Don Quixote, sprang to his feet and dashed past the astounded servant, making for Feferi's drawing room. He burst into it to find not just John, but Rose, Dave and Kanaya seated with Feferi, drinking tea and biscuits. They looked at him for a moment, and then John and Dave stood up. John rushed forward and slapped Karkat vigorously on the back.

"Thank goodness you're here, my friend. We need you." He pulled back and stepped aside, and Dave, who had been standing behind him, moved forward smoothly and punched Karkat squarely in the face.

It was no light jab; Karkat reeled backwards, clutching his jaw and swearing unintelligibly.

"I think, dear brother, that it might have been useful to explain why you were hitting him before you did the deed," Rose said from the couch, sounding more amused than anything.

"If it comes to it," Dave said, cracking his knuckles, "I can always do it again."

Karkat glared at Dave, sizing him up for a return blow, but before he could move Feferi's voice rang out across the room.

"That's enough. We have a lot to do, and not enough time to do it. Sit down, Don John, Don Dave, Don Karkat." Karkat looked sharply at her. She was sitting upright her chair, her back straight as a steel rod, and there was the look on her face that she wore when she was being not just a clever and kind woman, but also a general and a great leader of men.

"What's going on?" Karkat said, suddenly troubled.

"We bring very serious news," Rose said. "It's about Jade."

* 

Caliborn came to visit Jade a week before the burning. He had not seen her since the trial, and for that Jade was grateful. Her last three weeks had been peaceful and serene. She had spent her days pouring over her theories, looking for any inconsistencies. She was convinced that her interpretation of the nature of the stars was correct, and she was sure she was close to proving it. If only she had had more time.

But time was not her gift.

He came to her in the afternoon, while she was sewing. She had completed nineteen pieces of needlework in the period of her captivity, each a different illustration of the Lord's prayer. It was suitable work, befitting a penitent, and if she had concealed her own work within the patterns, coding her theorems stitch by stitch and colour by colour, well that did not diminish the artistic effect. She was just finishing the nineteenth sampler when Caliborn entered, ducking his head to fit through the doorframe.

Jade trembled a little to see him. She had not forgotten his violence towards her at the trial, and she had half wondered if he wouldn't prefer to kill her himself. He was savage enough to do it, certainly. But when she looked at his face it was still, almost mild, as though she were really his wife, and not the woman he had sentenced to death. It frightened her much more than anger would have.

"They're building your pyre in the square," he said. "The central pillar is good oak, and the bushels are ash and gorse, to burn quick and hot. It will be the best pyre in all of the Papal States, without a doubt." He leant in close to Jade and gripped her jaw, so that she had to look at him. "Are you excited to burn, witch? Maybe those flames will remind you of your master."

Jade said nothing. She looked back at him steadily, hoping that he could not see the fear in her heart. His mismatched eyes, bright blue and bloody brown, were gleaming with malice.

"Would you like to live a little longer, witch?"

He stepped back and unlocked the door, throwing it open. A gust of fresh air blew in, and Jade could see the early afternoon sunlight lying rich and gold on the wooden floor outside. Her foot shifted slightly, the very beginning of a motion to stand, and she stopped herself. Caliborn did not miss it, though, and he laughed at her.

"You want it. And I will give it to you." He set himself in front of the door and smiled at her. "The minute you tell me where my sister is."

Fear gripped Jade's stomach, and she felt nauseous. This was the moment of hr reckoning. She could buy her freedom, at the cost of integrity, and honour, and love. For a moment she thought of doing it Life had not been kind to her: why should she be kind to it? And she did not judge herself for that moment. Fear is a powerful shadow, always waiting to pounce. But it only had power if you gave it control, and Jade would never do that.

She turned her head away, towards the window and the blue sea.

"I have nothing to tell you."

A crash sounded, and she swung her head back. Caliborn had picked a vase from the sideboard and smashed it on the ground. The sharp fragments lay everywhere. He crushed them to dust under his boots as he walked over to her.

"I will relish your death," he said. "I will glory in it. You are not my sister, but you are one of her kind, and every time you die the world is a better place." His breath was hot against her nose and cheek. She wondered, almost absent-mindedly, if he would hit her, but he did not. He simply turned and left, locking her in.

Jade bent her head over her needlework. There was a bitter taste in her mouth. It was hard to die, when you had been offered freedom. Her head and heart were full of longing, for the wind and the sea and the warm sun. She turned back to her needlework, but as she moved to pull out another stitch she found that the wool had grown wet and hard to work with. Her teeth bit down savagely on her lip, and her shoulders tightened, but that did not stop her cheeks from growing hot and wet, or her breath from bursting out of her in painful gasps.

Outside, beyond the window, the day and night wore her life to a withered stub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm I don't know if I have any notes for this especially.
> 
> Hopefully Caliborn's intentions in marrying Jade are clear to you now. One thing I was super worried about in this fic was dealing with marital rape. It was an inevitability for an unlucky woman, but I really really didn't want to go there. Making Caliborn fixated on his sister, and having him identify Jade strongly with her (as a criminal) was my way out.
> 
> Speaking of Caliborn and Calliope, their alignments with science and religion are part of what I consider my allusions to Homestuck. In Homestuck, after all, Caliborn has a religion dedicated to him, and his servants behave very much as disciples, especially Doc Scratch and the Handmaid. Calliope, on the other hand, is very much associated with science (she's a space player, after all). So that became part of the structure of my story.
> 
> Originally the last Jade section of this chapter was in chapter six, but I moved it back to even out the length and return the focus to Jade. This does mean that the timeline is totally screwed up again though. We'll be hopping back about two weeks to catch up with Karkat tomorrow.
> 
> I don't have any side stories today. I will have one tomorrow, when we meet a new character. :)


	7. Six

"We need to talk about Jade."

Karkat sat down. He couldn't think of anything else to do. The minute Jade's name had been mentioned, everyone's attitude had changed. John had hunched up over himself, resting his head on a sea-reddened fist. Dave flung himself into the nearest armchair and tossed his head back, an attitude so arrogantly nonchalant that it was certainly fake. Rose's mouth was tight as a bow string, and she kept stirring her tea, setting the spoon down and picking it up again moments later. Kanaya and Feferi showed no such agitated gestures, Feferi's tensed spine and the way Kanaya kept her eyes trained unblinkingly on Rose were signal enough.

"John received the news just days ago," Rose said. "He came to collect myself and Dave, and we journeyed here at once to ask for help. Jade has been tried by the inquisition, and found guilty. In just under three weeks, she will be burnt at the stake."

When Karkat was very young, he had seen a woman burnt. Sometimes, in his worst dreams, it came back to him, the charred stink of her burning flesh and her horrible, smoke-choked screams. He had never seen a worse death. And this was what they were planning to do to Jade. They were planning to kill her so painfully, his friend who had never hurt anyone, whose only desire was to understand the world around her.

"Where is she?" he said, grinding the words out. His hand was twitching, longing to grab and draw his sword.

"In Senigallia," John said. "We can reach it in time, if we leave tomorrow morning. I left the Prospit in Genoa, and took one of Ampora's ships, the White Wand. We'll sail that to Sardinia, and then meet up with a friend of mine who will take us the rest of the way."

Karkat nodded. He was already thinking logistically. How many men would he need to pull this off? At least his own militia, and maybe more. They would be attacking a town, and even if it was unprepared and unfortified, this would not be an easy battle.

"You'll be fighting the church," Dave said, not moving. "Think you have it in you?"

"Of course," Karkat said, not pausing for a moment. And to his astonishment, he found that it was true. He would have faced his own father and brother together for Jade, and not thought twice about it. It didn't matter if she didn't love him. It didn't matter if she couldn't marry him. He would do it for her, because she was the woman who had given him the world.

He turned to Feferi.

"Your Grace, I need men."

Feferi nodded.

"Take them. Men, weapons, gunpowder, whatever you need. But bring her back." She ran a hand through her hair. "I have often written to Jade, through Serenita. She is brilliant. Her work will change the world. But she must survive to do it. No matter what, Karkat, bring her to me. I will wait for you in Coimbra."

Her voice brooked no argument.

"We have a lot to do," Rose said. "I wouldn't be much help in person, but I can help you plan now." She leant forward, unfolded a piece of parchment from the sleeve of her dress, and began sketching out an idea.

 

It was close to midnight, the end of the 26th of February, and in a little sheltered cove near Senigallia the pirate ship An Damhan Alla lay anchored. It was a long, low beast of a ship, with a fearful reputation in every port of the European coast, from Galway to Tangier. Now it lay dark and silent, moving slowly on the little waves that broke against its sides, completely concealed from watching eyes further out to sea.

"Karkat, we have news." John's voice rang through the closed door of his cabin, and Karkat stood up at once, putting aside his gun, which he had been carefully oiling. He followed John up to the main deck, where Dave stood with the captain of their new ship, Vriska. They were both listening intently to the ship's boy, Naoise, who had been in Senigallia picking up news.

"Well?" Karkat said. There was no moon, and the silvery light of the stars did not give him enough light to read their expressions.

"There's a platoon of soldiers in the town," Dave said. "It more than we'd hoped, but we'll manage. Jade is being kept in the castle, which is impregnable without a long siege. Our best chance is to rescue her on her journey to the pyre."

"That cuts our time very short," Karkat said. "We'll have to move efficiently."

"Don't worry yourself, Karkat," Vriska said, laughing. "With my men and yours, there'll be nothing to fear." She slapped him on the back, and he glared at her. She had been the most irritating part of the journey so far, this loud Irish barbarian with her long black hair and her jugs of whiskey and her incessant gambling. He didn't understand how John could bear her.

He left them alone and went to the rail of the ship, looking down into the dark water. It was like the night before a battle, but worse, because it was not his own life he was fighting to protect, and his own choices could not ensure victory.

"You look troubled," John said, ambling over to him. "Thinking about Jade?"

Karkat shrugged. He didn't want to talk about it.

"It doesn't matter now, does it?"

"You don't have to worry," John said, clapping a heavy, rope-worn hand on Karkat's shoulder. "With Vriska here it'll be a walk in the park. I've never seen anyone fight like her, man or woman, and her men would follow her to hell."

"It's unfathomable to me, what you see in that woman," Karkat said. He looked back to where she stood on the deck, speaking quietly with Dave and aiming her guns randomly. They weren't loaded, but the gesture made Karkat nervous.

"Vriska is a fascinating person, you know," John said, smiling benignly. "It's been to my great benefit to have a pirate as a friend. And she’s of noble stock, too."

Karkat wondered about the word friend, but didn't ask. There were some stories where you knew the ending without having to guess.

"What time is the tide?" he asked instead, turning the conversation back to the task at hand.

"A little after six," John said, "but we won't set out until nine. We want to be on the open water for as short a time as possible before the attack."

Karkat nodded.

"I'm going to get some sleep," he said. "Wake me when we leave."

* 

The day of Jade's burning dawned clear and bright. It was warm, for February, and the pale sky threatened to be achingly blue in just a few hours. Jade greeted it with genuine pleasure, standing at her window to watch the colours shift through the leaden glass.

She spent the morning tidying her room. She wrote two letters, one to John and one to Grandfather. She had no idea if Caliborn would send them, but she felt better for having done it. At ten the maid came in to dress her and plait her hair. The girl was crying, and Jade found herself hugging her, and telling her it would be fine, and that she was going through the pain to God. When the girl had left Jade stood up and walked around. Sometimes she took very short steps, and sometimes she took long strides. She stretched her arms up. She imitated some of the sword-fighting techniques Karkat had showed her. She essayed a little dance. If this was to be the last day on which she would have a body, she intended to treasure it.

At half eleven the guards led her out from her room, down along the corridors and out through the courtyard. They had tied a rope around her wrists, behind her back, and the other end was held by an old, fierce soldier. There would be no seducing him into running away with her, Jade thought, and she couldn’t help the smile that flashed across her face.

Caliborn met them at the gate, perched on his big black horse. His face was coldly satisfied. Jade curtsied to him, because she thought that would annoy him most, and then she was led out of the castle, into the blinding midday sunlight and the clamour of all the people who had turned out to look at her.

The journey to the square took about fifteen minutes. Five of those had elapsed when the Jade heard the distant shouts. There was something bitter on the wind, a smell of smoke? She wondered if she was smelling her own pyre, but the expression on Caliborn's face told her she was wrong. He looked anxious.

Hope, terrible and painful, flared inside Jade's chest. She beat it back furiously, but it clung to her heart. Caliborn stared at her, frighteningly savage.

"Lead her on," he said to the soldiers. "I will return soon."

His horse galloped off, and Jade used the moment of confusion to reach for the crochet hook tucked inside her sleeve. Tugging it into her hand, she began to pull the threads apart, even as the guards led her on.

 *

The town drew into sight shortly after eleven. Vriska called out in Irish, and at once her flag was raised, the rapacious crow with the red noose around its neck. The ship moved slowly on, towards the harbour. Karkat heard distant shouts from the shore. Then the boom of cannons echoed below his feet, and the customs house produced a cloud of white smoke. Another cannon, and another cloud.

Horns were blowing, men were shouting. Karkat turned to his soldiers. They looked at him seriously, waiting for his command. Their armour was stripped of all insignia. No matter how this turned out, Feferi would not be implicated.

"Show them what hell looks like," he said, and a cheer rang out from the soldiers. They began to pour into the boats being lowered over the edge of the ship, sculling themselves furiously towards the city.

Karkat found himself in a boat with Vriska, John and Dave. John looked earnest, almost eager, as though this was a fun adventure. Dave was frowning with concentration, and Vriska was grinning from ear to ear, her crooked teeth making her seem like a wild animal.

"A beautiful day like this is a good day to die," she said, and she winked at Karkat. "But it's a better day to live and kill!" The boat drew in against the pier, and they sprang out, guns and swords at the ready. Behind them Vriska's first mate was moving the boat back out to sea, out of the range of cannon fire.

Karkat hailed his men, and led them up the slope towards the shelter of the damaged customs house. There were guards inside, but a few carefully aimed shots took them out, and then the shelter of the wall offered space to plan. They were at a disadvantage, fighting uphill and in territory they didn't know. On the other side of the harbour Vriska was leading the pirates on a mad and risky charge. John and Dave were with Karkat, crouched in amongst the militia. Both had concealed their faces with old-fashioned helmets, as had Karkat. It would be dangerous to be recognised.

They moved slowly through the streets of the town, ducking into doors and alleys for cover wherever possible. Resistance was patchy, with soldiers grouped in clumps and unwilling to attack, and Karkat had hopes that this fight would be over quickly. The church clock, high above the city, said twenty to twelve. He was on a deadline.

Then the sound of hooves rang out, and a horse and rider came galloping down the street through the clouds of gunpowder and smoke. From the way the soldiers reacted, Karkat knew that this must be their general, the man he hated more than any other, Count Lagorio. He was a bullish figure, big and burly with mismatched eyes and a peg leg. His hands, clutched around the rein of the horse, seemed too large to be able to control the animal with any finesse, but he was clearly a consummate rider.

Karkat took careful aim and fired. His first bullet went wide, but the second was luckier, smashing through the horse's back leg. It bucked and stumbled, almost throwing the Count off. He kept his seat, but the horse was screaming and wobbling, and it was clear that it would not bear him much longer. Grunting, the Count swung himself down and drew his sword, a big meaty broadsword with too many notches for comfort.

John and Dave came running up the hill.

"Is that our man?" John said, swishing his sword back and forth to shake the blood from it.

"It must be," Karkat said.

Dave nodded.

"No time like the present," he said, bitterly cheerful. "The three of us should be able to take him."

They charged forward together. Karkat tucked his gun into his jacket, knowing it would be useless. He drew his sword instead, setting it across his body and preparing for the first strike.

The Count saw them coming and roared, maybe with anger or maybe with bloodlust. His eyes were wild and there was froth on his lips. He swung his sword in a huge arc, his reach and its length combining in a terrible sweep. Dave harried him from one side, Karkat from another, and John charged him from the centre. A lesser fighter would have been quickly overwhelmed, but the Count was no ordinary man. He deflected them all, time and again, sometimes using his peg leg as a shield or a weapon. His brutal strength and limitless savagery were exhausting.

The bells chimed, and with dawning horror Karkat realised that it was already a quarter to twelve.

"Go!" John cried. "We'll hold him off!" Karkat glanced at them, troubled, but he had no time to lose. He sprang back and sprinted off through the streets looking for Jade and praying that his friends would survive until his return.

 *

It took Jade five minutes to get the knots loose, and all that time the sounds echoing throughout the town grew louder and more savage. The soldiers around her were jumpy and nervous, distracted by the violence.

The ropes came free and she slid out of them at once, springing back and pulling a long wool needle from her girdle. It was not much, but it would have to do.

"Stay back," she said, holding it so that the metal gleamed. Her only hope was that they wanted to burn her more than they wanted her dead, and she was not very sure of that.

The soldier to her left drew his sword, and she stepped backwards. They were hemming her in, moving her towards the doorway. She looked at the needle in her hand, and thought of the last possibility. Then she set it against her throat. Anything was better than burning. The needle sought out the vein that moved through her neck, and she prepared to push.

 *

Karkat ran through the streets, his sword bared. There was little resistance - it seemed most of it was concentrated on the pirates, headed towards the castle. A reckless young soldier, still enough of a child that his whiskers had not yet grown in, charged at him. Karkat did not bother with his sword. He simply grabbed the boy's arm and snapped it upwards, then slammed him down onto the street.

"Tell me where the square is before I gut you," Karkat said. The boy stumbled out directions, shaking with fear. Karkat nodded and stood up, slamming his foot into the boy's gut so that he wouldn't get up again. Then he stood up and ran in the direction the boy had pointed.

He was getting close when he saw the four soldiers. They were standing around a pale, thin woman with dark hair, her hands pressed oddly against her throat. It took him a long moment to recognise Jade, she was so altered by captivity and misery, and another long moment to realise what she was doing.

"Stop!" The shout was torn from his throat before he could think.

 *

"Stop!" Jade's eyes widened and the needle halted, the tip just below the first layer of skin. She had heard Karkat's voice. But that couldn't be true. He was in Spain. Her eyes tracked desperately to the man in armour, looking for anything that would confirm her hope. As her gaze turned one of the soldiers reached out and grabbed her, pulling her in and setting his sword to her neck.

"Don't you bloody move, witch," he said, his voice a low rumble against her ear. Then he called more loudly to the armoured man. "I don't know what you want, but this woman is a witch. We're taking her to be burnt."

The armoured man said nothing. He did not move. Jade realised that he was hesitating because she was in danger, and her needle flashed up, driving itself into the soldier's hand. He swore and jumped, dropping his sword. Jade plunged after it and grabbed it. It was heavy, and hard to hold, but she gripped it firmly and set it in front of her body, the way Karkat had once taught her to do. The four soldiers stared at her, eyes wide and unbelieving, and as their focus turned to her the armoured man charged.

 *

The fight was over quickly. They were trained soldiers, but they were unprepared and uncertain, and Karkat was filled with a burning rage. His sword made short work of them.

Then he turned to Jade. She had not set down the sword, and her eyes looked doubtful. Hollow doubt poured into his stomach. He wondered if she had really forgotten him. Maybe all of this had been her choice. Maybe she had never loved him.

"Karkat, is that you?"

He blinked, and remembered his helmet. He lifted the visor carefully, and watched Jade's eyes fill with tears. The sword fell from her hands, and she tackled him.

"I never thought I'd see you again," she said. He put a hand on her hair, but there was no time to celebrate.

"We have to go," he said. He took a horn from his hip and blew three blasts: short, long, short. That was the signal to retreat. Then he turned back to Jade. "Can you run?"

She blinked.

"Of course."

Hand in hand they ran through the streets. Karkat kept a watch for soldiers, but saw none, though there were many bodies on the streets. He followed the route he had taken, looking for John and Dave. As he rounded the corner he saw them, and they were not alone. The Count still stood, and though his breathing was laboured, it was clear that Dave and John were also exhausted. Karkat let go of Jade's hand and drew his sword, and the noise made the Count glance at them.

Karkat would never forget the Count’s face as he looked at Jade. He had never seen so much hatred in a human expression before. The Count snarled and changed his sword grip to his left hand, pulling out a gun with his right. The ivory-inlaid stock gleamed white in the midday sun as he aimed.

_I'm dead_ , Karkat thought. _I'm going to die._ There was a crack and a spark and a cloud, and he waited for the pain. It didn't come. The Count lurched, and stumbled, blood spreading out across the silk cloth of his shoulder. As he sank down Dave's sword swung in, and the Count's head rolled away from his body.

"That'll do nicely, lads," Vriska said, setting her gun back on her hip. She was wearing an enormous gold crown on her head, and she looked like a cat full of kippers and milk.

Karkat turned back to Jade, who was staring at Caliborn's body. Her expression was somewhere between relief and sorrow.

"I wanted him to die," she said. "I hated him so much. But I didn't think he would." Her voice drew John and Dave's attention, and Karkat was forced to surrender her for a hug.

"I think we should be heading back to the ship now," he said, when they showed no signs of breaking apart.

"You're right," John said, nodding. "Time for reunions later."

Karkat caught Jade's hand and swung her up into his arms.

"Dave, do you have the sack?" Dave pulled out a rough burlap sack and slid it over Jade's face. She didn't fight, but she spoke, her voice muffled by the cloth.

"What are you doing?"

"We think it will be for the best if they assume you died in the attack," Dave said. "So no one can see your face."

"Don't worry," Karkat said quietly. "I won't let anything happen to you."

Jade nodded and put her hand over his where he held her, gripping his finger to show that she knew it was true.

 *

It was late in the evening and the sun was setting over the distant mass of the Papal States. Vriska had steered them out into open waters, hoping to use her boat's speed to their advantage. She and John had opened a cask of wine, and were sitting singing songs together. John opted for love ballads, while Vriska sang incomprehensibly in Irish. Judging by her tone, the lyrics were sad and vicious. Dave was watching them with some amusement, sprawled out across a heap of rope, a pipe clamped between his teeth.

Karkat could not join in the merriment. He strode back and forth, ignoring Vriska's calls to come and sit down and stop wearing through her boards. He could not have stayed still, not for anything. At last, when the sun was gone and the stars were coming out one by one, the ship’s surgeon came up on deck.

"She's awake," he said to Karkat, "and she's asking for you."

Karkat needed no encouragement.

 *

Jade was staring at the ceiling when Karkat came in. She turned her head to look at him. He had washed up while she was sleeping, and the soot and grime and blood were gone from his face. His eyes trained on her intently.

"How are you feeling?" he said, and Jade hardly knew how to respond.

"Fine," she said. "Although Seamus told me I'm to stay in bed until tomorrow." She smiled at Karkat.

"Very wise," he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Jade felt herself tilt towards his weight. She reached out her hand, and he took it, running his thumb over her fingers and then bending to kiss her palm.

"Missed you," Jade said, her voice thick and aching.

"Missed you too."

"I was told you were dead," she said, speaking slowly to stop the words from turning to tears. "And then I was told I had to get married. And then I tried to run away, but I was caught. I didn't know you were really alive until after the wedding, when it was too late." A little sob escaped her. "It was really horrible."

He laughed, short and painful, and stroked her hair.

"It has been a very long two months. A great deal happened to me as well."

"Like what?"

"Well I almost died, was saved by a Catalan Vicountess and her sister, fought for a rebellion, was made a Baron by the Duchess of Coimbra, almost got married and came to rescue you."

"Almost got married?" She hoped he would think the crack in her voice was just leftover tears.

"Yes. I didn't go through with it. I couldn't."

Jade nodded and stayed silent for a moment, thinking about how best to say what she needed to say.

"I don't have any titles any more," she said. "I mean, I was tried as a witch. Even if Grandfather knew I was alive, I think I have been disowned. And although I'm a widow, I can't claim those lands either. There is nothing noble or special about me any more. But all the same, I would very much like to marry you, if you'll have me."

Karkat looked away, and Jade felt her heart shrivel up in her chest. But when he looked back, his eyes were wet and shining.

"Yes," he said, and then he kissed her. His lips were very warm, and his hand was on her neck. The coldness in Jade’s bones, the icy numbness of her heart, melted at his touch. Like a flower unfurling towards the new spring sun, Jade felt herself begin to grow again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there we go. The epilogue will be up tomorrow.
> 
> Can you tell that Feferi-the-revolutionary-leader is my favourite Feferi characterisation? Because it is. I mean, her alternate universe self created a utopia. Feferi was boss. I like to reflect that. :D
> 
> I promised you a story, didn't I? Well let's talk about Vriska a little first. Vriska is sort of based on Grainne O'Malley, the Irish pirate who lived about a hundred years earlier. I like to think they're related. Grace O'Malley was a chieftan, the captain of a fleet of ships, and a revolutionary, and was in every way as badass as you are imagining. When she was twelve she cut all her hair off so that her father would take her with him on his ships, earning her the nickname Grainuille (Bald Grainne) for the rest of her life. She met Queen Elizabeth once, and treated her as an equal rather than a superior. Apparently Elizabeth was pretty impressed with this, as she gave Grainne everything she was asking for (she later took it all back, but oh well). There are lots of folk songs about Grainne, though probably the most famous is Oro Se do Beatha Baile (which basically means fuck off home).
> 
> So. I think Vriska is probably very fond of her ancestress. But that's not the story.
> 
> Vriska and John met when she was sixteen and he was eighteen, about four years before the story starts. She boarded him while he was playing dice, and seeing that he had won, challenged him to a match. If he could beat her, she would leave him in peace. John accepted, and won. He was the only person ever to beat Vriska at dice. They met several more times in this way, with Vriska boarding him, before they gave up the pretence and just met as friends. Due to their situations and obligations, they knew they could never marry, but they agreed to meet every spring and autumn. Vriska did marry eventually, for the sake of her clan. John did not. He adopted a son instead. But every year, around they equinox, they would come together for a few days, a promise made and kept.
> 
> If you have any questions, if you're confused about anything, if you want to ask about research or if you noticed a mistake, do leave me a comment or message me on tumblr. I'll see you tomorrow. <3


	8. Epilogue

They reached Coimbra at the end of March, riding up through the mountains from Figueira da Foz. The weather had been mostly rainy, full of showers that churned the dusty roads to mud, but today the clouds were light and fleecy and chased through the sky by errant breezes.

The city was tucked into a bend of the river, and they crossed into the cobbled streets over a bridge, moving in among the tall, narrow houses with their red tiled roofs. Jade, riding next to Karkat, turned her head this way and that, taking in everything. Karkat watched her with very loving amusement. The ring on her finger, given to them by Vriska, gleamed brightly in the spring sunlight, the marker of a promise not yet fulfilled.

They were not very far into the city when the guards approached them. Dave and John sat up a little straighter in their saddles, tensing in case of danger, but Karkat recognised the captain and nodded to him.

"Barao Vantas," he said, "we bring word from her Grace. She wants you to come with us directly."

Karkat sighed.

"Do we actually have a damn choice?"

The man looked faintly shocked, but he shook his head.

"She was, well, she was quite insistent."

Karkat nodded and shook his reins, letting his horse follow the captain's.

"She's probably ecstatic at the thought of meeting you," he said to Jade. "I think she might just kidnap you for the next three months. I won’t get to see you at all."

"I can manage my own time perfectly well," Jade said, smiling at him. "And besides, I want to meet her too. She was one of my favourite correspondents, next to Muse."

The University was a beautiful building in white stone, and it looked even more impressive with Feferi standing in front of it, in full Ducal regalia. Karkat, Jade, John, Dave and Vriska swung themselves down from their horses and bowed or curtsied, and when they straightened up Feferi was already moving towards them. Behind her Karkat saw Rose and Kanaya with a woman he didn't recognise, a small, white-haired woman with a heavily lined face.

Feferi greeted them all warmly, showing a great interest in Vriska and saying "well done" to Karkat. Her greatest enthusiasm, however, was for Jade.

"We've been waiting and hoping," she said. "You have so much to do here. I hope you will spend at least half the year with the university. We need minds like yours." Her voice burbled on and on. Karkat looked at Jade to see if this was overwhelming her, but though she was rather pink, Karkat could tell how pleased she was, and he felt impossibly glad that she had come here, to a place where her brilliant mind was seen for the diamond it was.

He tuned out the conversation for a moment, and came back to it at the word Muse. The older woman was moving forward.  She curtsied to Jade, and took her hand. Her face was the face of someone who has seen great suffering but not been crushed by it.

"My name is Calliope, my dear," she was saying to Jade. "I am so glad to meet you. I hear you married my brother." She added no condolences, but her expression said them for her. Jade bowed her head in return. Caliborn was still a painful subject for her.

"He's dead," Jade said.

"Oh." There was a pause, and then Calliope laughed. "Oh thank goodness. You have done such a good deed."

She smiled at the group, a full radiant smile that made her seem ten years younger. Then she turned back to Jade.

"If you ever want to talk about him, you can always come to me." Jade nodded and took Calliope's hand for a moment, but she said nothing.

"Well," Feferi chimed, "you must all be tired and hungry. There is food waiting for us, if you'll follow me." Her guards led the way, and as they walked she turned to Karkat.

"Have you married her yet?"

He did not pretend to be surprised.

"No. Though I would like to, as soon as possible."

Feferi smiled.

* 

Jade and Karkat were married a week later, in the old Cathedral of Coimbra, by the bishop, a man sympathetic to Feferi's goals and ideals. They were both still learning the ins and outs of Portuguese, but they managed well enough, and sealed the words with a kiss which could not be misunderstood.

They left the cathedral, with its beautiful tiled walls, and emerged into a misty April day surrounded by friends old and new. Rose and Kanaya were there, and John and Vriska, and Dave and even Terezi and Latula. Karkat had never felt so connected to the world. It struck him that though his blood relatives had forgotten him, there were other kinds of families, and other ways to be happy.

And there was Jade. She was restored to full and shining glory, talking and laughing with everyone, introducing herself to the people she didn't know and reconnecting with those she did. He couldn't take his eyes off her.

At last she came back to him and sat down, resting her head on his shoulder.

"What a lovely day," she said.

"I'm glad you're having fun."

"Aren't you?"

Karkat shrugged.

"It's nice to celebrate, but I'll be glad when this is over. I want you to myself for a while."

Jade smiled.

"We have all the time in the world for that," she said. "I mean, we still have to go and see our new house, and settle in. There's an awful lot to do."

"But we'll do it together," he said, watching Dave and Terezi from the corner of his eye. Dave seemed to be trying to flirt with her, and Karkat felt his mouth twitch. He suspected Dave would find Terezi somewhat tougher than his usual fare.

"Yes," Jade said. "Together." She slipped an arm around his waist. "I want an observatory."

Karkat kissed the top of her head.

"You can have that and a chemical laboratory, if it makes you happy."

Jade gave him a little squeeze of affection, and they sat together, watching as the Earth turned, and Portugal rotated away from the sun, into the sight of the blazing, distant stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done! Thank you so much to everyone who read this, whether you followed from the beginning, started in the middle or are reading this at some future point when it's all done. I hope you liked it. I had a lot of fun writing this fic.
> 
> And now some notes. These are personal headcanons, but I didn't include them in the fic for a reason, and if you don't like them, ignore them.  
> Feferi lived to be a hundred and eight, and Coimbra was renowned under her guidance for its learning and culture. Musicians and artists from Europe and beyond came to live and work there, and scientists, too.  
> Jade kept working on her theories, which she published under a male pseudonym. They contributed greatly to the dawning of the Enlightenment. In her later years she met Spinoza, who greatly admired her, and took what she said as the basis for some of his own ideas.  
> Karkat did nothing special with his life, if by that I mean that he created no great art or literature, but he ruled his lands fairly and well, and he loved Jade very much, which was probably enough for one life.  
> Dave did eventually marry Terezi, but it took them six years of beating around the bush. He started visiting her in Tortosa, on his travels around Europe, and bringing her stories, and eventually she decided that she liked the stories so much she wanted to go with him.  
> Latula remained in Catalonia until 1652, when the province returned to Spanish control. Then she left and moved to Coimbra, and lived with Feferi for the rest of her life.
> 
>  
> 
> I mentioned this in one of the comments, but I do have some more fic ideas in my head. The main one is another multi-chaptered AU, set in the 1820s (because why would I miss a chance to gush about the Romantic poets?) and based off something that occurred to me while I was writing this fic. It will draw heavily on gothic novels, like Pamela and the Mysteries of Udelpho, and also on La Belle et La Bete. However, I have personal projects that I've been neglecting, and those come first, so I probably won't get to work on this fic until March. Until then, I leave you all with the torturous knowledge that more is coming. <3


End file.
